


The Trial in The Fog Has No Jury

by Abhorable, Ghost_Pepper



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Best Friends, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Sibling Bonding, Vomiting, adding tags as I go, this is a fucking nightmare to describe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26670061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abhorable/pseuds/Abhorable, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Pepper/pseuds/Ghost_Pepper
Summary: An anthology series of the everyday toils of the Survivors and Killers alike. Various relationships will be focused on here, as every chapter is from a different character's view, along with the main story line of what happens when both sides become a little too close for the Entity's liking.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/David King, Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Philip Ojomo | The Wraith, Kate Denson/Caleb Quinn | The Deathslinger, Nea Karlsson/Jake Park, The Plague/The Oni
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1 - Jake

A thick gray mist rolled in from all directions, only fought off by the flickering orange light of the Campfire, though even that illumination was meager. The flames made the trees stretching out as far as they could see beyond the thickness of the Fog appear almost monstrous. Twisted, jagged branches reaching up to the sky, like they were crying out to a God that wouldn’t answer.

Five shapes were sitting at the campfire, chatting idly. Usually they would’ve have closer to seven, but one of their ranks, Meg Thomas, had run off again to go exploring the area, and Jake Park was standing away from everyone else, just far away enough he couldn’t be interacted with but close enough they could see his outline in the haze- like usual.  
Jake was a strange one. He usually ignored the others if they tried to speak to him, or pretended not to hear as he headed off into the dim. Despite this, during a Trial he would follow directions easily, though sometimes it could be hard to find him as he was off doing his own thing.

On this night in particular, the survivalist had his back turned to the group, gazing off into the Fog just a few feet away from them. He always found it strange how the endless Fog between the Campfire and the other Realms wasn’t cold. The fire was warm, sure, but stick your hand inside of it and you wouldn’t feel a thing. Breathing in the thick misty haze always pervading the area also wouldn’t cause that gently tickling feeling in the back of your throat, nor cool you down. It was perfectly puzzling, just like everything else in this damned place.  
By the fire, David looked up while he was having a conversation with Nea and Dwight about something trivial, noticing the man. He huffed gently.

“Oi, Park,” He called. “You pissin’ er some’in’?” A throaty chuckle came from him as his own remark. The other two gave him odd looks, knowing how David was always picking on the poor man.

Jake turned his head, his obsidian eyes not betraying any hint of what he was feeling. Even so, he was at least a little irritated based on his response.  
“Fuck off, man. I saw something out there.”

“Language.” Dwight mumbled. No one heeded him of course.

“Saw what?” David queried. “Might be Meg. She’s off runnin’ about, ya know.”

“No.” Jake insisted. His tone was stone serious, lacking the usual sarcasm. “It was bigger. And even she can’t move that fast.”

That made all of them fall deathly silent. The survivalist wasn’t one to joke about something like that. And besides, he had no reason to do so. Those at the campfire all exchanged confused and concerned looks, brows furrowing.  
Finally, Nea stood up, her face scrunched up as if she smelled the gore off a rotting carcass. “I’m getting Meg. If there _is_ something out there, she shouldn’t be alone.”  
That statement naturally received mumbled agreements from the others. Laurie pushed herself to her feet, crossing her arms across her torso with a soft frown.  
“I’ll come with you.”  
Despite being relatively new, Laurie was rather familiar with monsters. She had the respect of the other Survivors. Even if her own sub-leadership rule next to Dwight was reluctant and begrudging, she was more of a caretaker.

Jake trudged his way to the others, his black eyes cast to the ground. “Me too.” He wasn’t especially close to Meg, but it didn’t matter. He came into the Fog with her. Before it was just her, Dwight, Claudette, and himself; and even if he would never admit it, he did appreciate their companionship. Sometimes.  
Nea didn’t stop to negotiate, naturally. As soon as the decision was made to come by the other two, she gestured for them to follow her and ran off into the Fog. Laurie and Jake weren’t far behind her of course and they kept pace somewhat easily.

Dwight watched them go, his posture slightly slumped. He just hoped they would be okay. With a soft sigh, he pushed his glasses back up his nose with his thumb and stood up himself. The scrapper gave him a strange look, wondering if he was going to leave, too. However, Dwight didn’t go far, only taking a few steps behind the fire to pick some strangely colored gooseberries off a small bush. He plucked off a generous amount into his palm, yet still leaving some behind and sat back down.  
Popping one into his mouth, he stretched out his hand to David. “Want some?” He asked, giving him a smile. The other man chuckled and nodded, gladly grabbing a few.  
“Thanks, pal.”

Off further into the seemingly endless expanse of fog and trees, Laurie, Nea, and Jake were calling for their fellow survivor. Their voices echoed off the trees, but got no replies back. They must’ve gotten maybe 30 minutes into the abyss, though it was hard to tell time here, and the fog was swirling around their ankles so thickly they couldn’t see their feet, nonetheless the area surrounding them. Jake turned his head to look at Nea, and they both gave each other disgruntled looks.  
“Where the hell is she?” Nea asks. Jake just shrugged.  
Laurie shakes her head, continuing ahead of them. “We have to keep looking.” Just like that, only about 3 feet ahead and her fluffy blonde hair disappears among the dark outlines of the suffocating trees.  
Jake feels Nea grasp onto his jacket sleeve. He’s startled, naturally. She has never touched him before. Never seemed outwardly afraid, always confident she could get away.  
Her voice pipes up to speak again and he can see her serious expression as she does. “We need to stick together, okay?” He can’t confirm or refuse, as the Swede then turns to yell into the fog. “Laurie! Meg! Come back, we can’t be separated out here!”

“Guys! Over here, come quickly!”

The two pause, both their eyes going wide. It was Meg, that was Meg’s voice! God, finally. Nea immediately starts to run in the direction it came from, violently tugging Jake after her who now for sure struggles to keep pace. When the hell did she get so fast?  
“Meg?”  
“Nea! Hey, over here!”  
So it definitely is her, and from the same direction. That’s comforting, naturally. Its definitely a confirmation that this isn’t an Entity trick, or something a Killer maybe could use on them. At least, they didn’t know of any Killer who could mimic the voices of their friends. Let’s hope not.  
After more frantic sprinting that exhausts them both, they finally see the dark ginger haired girl crouched behind a fallen log covered in dark moss. They run her way and crouch beside her at her direction.  
“You need to see this.” Meg assures them, a smile on her freckled face. Jake gives her a disgruntled look, wanting to scold her for going so far, but she doesn’t heed him. Instead she just points beyond the log, where jagged outcroppings of stone lurked and the thick Fog seemed to be clearing. Both Nea and Jake’s eyes widened.

“Is that..” Nea began.

“It’s the storehouse.” Jake finished, his expression one of disbelief with raised brows and a slightly gaped mouth. “Meg this… this is impossible, the other Realms only exist during Trials.”

Meg shakes her head, gesturing to the storehouse again. Part of the MacMillan estate. _Trapper’s_ Realm, they knew. The thought of that monstrous Killer was enough to make one shudder. “Well, you guys are obviously seeing it too. I canvassed the whole area- and it’s way bigger than we thought. The warehouse, the forest, the mine, the foundry- it’s all here, guys.”  
As she spoke, Jake peered past her. She looked right, but the Fog was still thick enough to make it hard to see. Near where they sat, a generator sat idle, blocked by the Entity like when the exit gates were fully powered. No pallets appeared to be in the area… which could be an issue if the Trapper was around.

Jake took a double-take, counting heads. Only three of them came in to find Meg, and now there were three. But, Meg was supposed to be a fourth addition. Laurie was gone. Jake opened his mouth to say something but immediately snapped it shut.  
Meg had started to sneak over to the warehouse while Jake had distracted himself. She has her eyes trained on the ground.

“Meg, you idiot, get back over here!” Nea hissed in a low whisper, reaching out to her.  
“It’s completely safe, especially with all three of us here. We can run circles around the killers, or uh, I can at least so you two can escape,” Meg grimaced at her last few words, continuing to get a few inches farther.  
Jake grunted unhappily before following her. Even if there were no pallets, she was right. He spoke with a certain air of distinguished knowledge on the subject, though he knew it was all a complete guess. “There was no way that the killers actually patrol these realms, right? That would be asinine. To have the monsters get any amount of freedom outside of trials would be completely bogus.”  
“C’mon, Jake, we can’t just go wandering around here,” Nea annoyedly commented. “We have _no_ idea where the killers are outside of trials, we can’t just bet it on some silly guess. We should take this time to get out of here.” Turning and pointing to the foggy barrier consuming the sides of the estate.

“Nea, I love you my gal, but we can’t miss an opportunity like this.” Meg was weird like that. She did platonic affection like it was nothing. It made Jake practically squirm inside, he just didn’t know how to emulate such emotion.

The girl in question scoffed, turning to face the two again and slowly came up to them. “What kind of opportunity, Meg?”  
“There could be food, Nea. Like, real food. Not just berries we find in the woods. Or, even better, more berries we can seed back at our base!” Nea put a hand over Meg’s mouth after she spoke so loudly, making a zipper sound and pulling an imaginary zipper over her own mouth.  
Meg forcibly pulled Nea’s hand off of her mouth. “Okay, I get the point Karlsson.”

They sat in silence for a moment, no-one really having anything to say. 

“You’re both right, let’s just not end up here like sitting ducks _if_ there is a killer wandering around. We should explore, but be really careful.” Jake chimed in suddenly. The red-head gave a toothy grin. Nea scowled, but eventually relented.  
Meg leads the charge at first, starting off into the bizarre mess of old crates. Jake wished he had a crowbar so that he could crack into one and see just what exactly they used to store at the old estate.

He’d always held a certain interest for the things that used to go on in the areas he’d been presented in trials. I mean, some sort of factory? With such large equipment? What was it all for? What were cornfields doing in a murder chase? What happened at a gas station, of all places, to make it significant enough to The Entity to be noteworthy?  
He shook off those thoughts. They were probably just random locations. After all, it wasn’t like The Entity had any real motive behind bringing anything here. It was probably all coincidence. He could almost guarantee that there was no way in hell, or maybe the fog, that they had any significance whatsoever.

The three stayed near dead quiet, transversing the boxes as they walked, trying to avoid leaf litter. Nea remained with her body low to the ground, now beginning to take charge as she watched in front of them before crouching ahead, letting the other two almost catch up before continuing on a bit further.  
They eventually got to that little forest path, one with the trees each lined up all the same and equal, with the killer’s shack at the very end. Yet, Jake noticed something. There was no shack, just a completely empty plot of land. Accompanying the almost natural blue fog of the land, this was all very disturbing to him.  
Everything always felt simulated, a little fake, to him, anyways. He supposed that the world they were running from giant killing machines in should feel a little fake, almost like a horror movie. But it was all real.  
_Jake recalled the first night that he and the others entered the fog._  
_It was quiet, living out in the woods. He’d been working on building a small log cabin with his hatchet, also known as his best friend. He adored that building, being completely secluded, and better yet, living off the land._  
They finally exited the field of trees, avoiding the open area where the killer’s shack was supposed to be. They plodded through the boxes, keeping their heads as low as they could as they approached the main warehouse.  
_He recalled going to sleep in his bedroll, content with the work he had done. The next second, he was walking in his dreams. But he felt awake. So, figuring he was having a lucid dream, he might as well enjoy it. Until he saw three complete strangers emerge in front of him. He knew he’d never seen these people in a crowd before, so he started to panic a bit. A small campfire emerged in the center of all four of them, and Jake knew something was deadly wrong._  
They arrived at the warehouse.  
_Jake remembered Claudette introducing herself first. She struck him as almost mouse-like, very timid but knowledgeable. Almost like a Beatrix Potter character. The more she spoke, the more she reminded him of a hedgehog in an apron. He definitely recalled seeing one in Potter’s books before._  
_Then Dwight spoke. Now he was definitely mousey. Very timid, a sweet at heart kind of guy who tried not to wear it on his sleeve too much._  
_Jake tried to introduce himself, figure out the situation. Everyone else was just as bewildered as he is, with barely any recollection as to how they emerged in front of the large campfire._  
_Meg said she’d go scout out the surrounding area. It was then that Jake noticed the whole surrounding area was just small trees, and a thick, thick fog._  
“So now what?” Meg whispered. Nea just shrugged.  
_They all introduced themselves to one another, including Meg when she got back from her lengthy run. Jake didn’t know how long they sat around that campfire, just trying to figure out what exactly was going on._  
_It didn’t take long before they all felt the pull. It was a drawing force, begging for the four to all step into the fog. Jake hated his first trial with a passion. It was against the Wraith, a killer Jake just couldn’t understand. The first time he ever saw the wraith, he was bewildered. A man? No, a tree growing into a man-like shape? What even was he? It didn’t matter, the Wraith nearly slaughtered them all. Only himself and Claudette figured out the “game” enough to finish it._  
Jake idly wondered if this was just a new form of the trials.  
_Jake remembered how they survived. They gathered food to eat, near positive it would kill them outside of a trial if they didn’t eat. They suffered the physical consequences of not eating, like stomach pain, so it made sense that not eating would, in fact, kill them all._  
_One day, Nea showed up. They were all sitting around the campfire, and Nea just showed up. They explained the trials to her, and she was a natural right off the bat. Soon after her, Laurie came. She had seen horrors already, and she explained the tale of Michael Myers to them. They explained to her how to survive. Soon enough, they had a trial with Myers and learned the definition of fear once again. Then David showed up, raring to punch a killer in the face. He obviously got his ass handed to him, but they all commemorated him for trying._  
_Soon enough, things were the way they were now. Crazy, bizarre, and terrifying during trials._  
Jake had been staring off for about a minute before a noise took him by surprise.  
“You guys sure are quiet.”  
Meg yelped upon feeling the hand on her shoulder. Nea simply brushed it off. Jake turned around and there was Laurie, standing right behind them, scaring the shit out of everyone.  
“You are so mean!” Meg groaned, trying to keep her voice down as Nea eyed her nervously.  
“So where’d you run off to?” Jake inquired, crossing his arms.  
Laurie looked around the warehouse a bit before finally responding. “Oh, y’know. Just checking it out. It’s weird. There’s like, a weird green fog barrier to the west, at least what I think is west, and anyway I figured out there’s food in Autohaven. Autohaven is beyond the green fog, and I think the other realms are connected too. Like a limbo. Oh yea, they have a hot dog roller. I grabbed a handful of Slim Jim’s before heading out.”  
“So there’s… real, actual food somewhere maybe in the warehouse, maybe?” Nea gaped at the thought.  
“We’ll be eating like kings soon enou-” Meg stopped in the middle of her sentence. Her eyes went wide as she glanced out the warehouse door. She looked like a deer in the headlights.  
Suddenly, Jake felt a familiar uneasy feeling wash over him. He followed Meg’s stare, out the door of the warehouse, only to see it.  
There it stood, tall and foreboding. It had rust on the metal bars sticking from its shoulders, blood too. The smell? Oddly, not bad, Jake thought offhandedly. He didn’t expect such a grimy creature to have decent hygiene enough to not smell like death. This was a new revelation Jake did not want to have while scared shitless, and more confused than he’d ever been in his entire life.  
_It_ was the Trapper.


	2. Chapter 2 - Meg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg and the gang stumble across something much bigger, and they wanted, than they came for. But they don't come back empty handed.

Jake, Meg, Nea, and Laurie all froze in terror, their heartbeats pounding in their ears. For once, rather than run they all were too scared to even move. Meg was vaguely reminded of that old movie Jurassic Park, the one that started the myth if you don't move that the tyrannosaurus rex couldn't see you.  
Comparing Trapper to a t-rex felt dumb. That was a dinosaur, some big prehistoric feathery saurian that was dead and gone. The Trapper was real, and he was standing perhaps 10 feet in front of them in the doorway to the warehouse. 

Trapper stared at them, his chest heaving with the usual deep breaths, roughened by his mask. His lack of cleaver in kind and how stationary he was despite staring right at them was a terrifying concept in it of itself.  
Most disturbing of all though was what came next. The beast _spoke_.  
“What are you all doing here? You’re very far from your camp.”  
Four mouths dropped to the floor. Nea was sure if her’s fell any more open it would sag right into the dirt like something from a cartoon.  
“You-” Meg stuttered. Clearly her body had stopped betraying her, and she was the first to take a shaking step back. “You can- talk?”  
The Trapper naturally was annoyed. Though, it appeared the Killer had regained operation of his own legs and began approaching the four survivors at a brisk pace. All of them let out frightened screams, Jake’s being quiet compared to the others, and they all turned on their heels and ran. The monster pursued them with a snort of rage coming from him, his loud stomping footsteps only increasing their fright.  
“Get back here!”

Somehow, Meg wasn’t the one to get away first. Maybe it was her earlier comment on running the killer around to help the others, or her hesitation a second ago, but she was just a hair too late. Trapper closed the gap easily and grasped onto her muscular arm.  
She yelped in fear obviously, trying to tear her arm away. Of course that did about as much good as trying to snuff out a forest fire with a garden hose. The Killer pulled Meg towards him, glaring down at him. It was becoming increasingly apparent to her that this creature had a mind of his own, despite their assumptions.  
His fingers were warm, exhibiting a stinging heat as they bruised her soft flesh in its grasp.  
"What are you four doing so far from your beloved Campfire?"  
Trapper spoke again, his hot breath puffing hot against her freckled cheek. She smelled, oddly, what was unmistakably the sweet, tender scent of peaches. It made her stomach growl a little, reminding the ginger how long it had been since she last ate.

"I-I was just exploring, looking for food." She squeaked. "It's my job- they followed me!"

The other three surprisingly had not fled all the way yet. Jake and Laurie were crouched behind a t-shaped outcropping of a wall, hiding themselves as they waited with baited breath.  
Just at the edge of the foggy barrier back to camp, with her outline barely visible, Nea was crouching. If it had been anyone else she would already be gone- out of sight, out of mind -but Meg was her friend. She was the one who suggested the search anyway. As such she couldn't help but feel a little responsible.

Back near the warehouse, the Trapper was studying Meg harshly. Despite that horrid smiling mask obstructing his face, she could feel his eyes boring into her almost. It made her shudder, hunching over as if trying to shrink away from his judgement. Honestly, she was just waiting for the thing to snap her neck right then and there. Considering this was outside a trial, couldn't he just do whatever he wanted? Clearly the Entity didn't have total control over him like they had long since assumed.

"I can give you food." Trapper mumbles, finally. "But you have to come with me."

Meg is too stunned and afraid to disagree. And really, did she have a choice? There was no getting away. He had a hold on her, wasn't letting go anytime soon and she had no say in the matter, clearly. It wasn't like her fellow survivors could do anything anyway- David proved attacking Killers was near impossible during his first Trial.  
Finally a decision was made. The redhead, unable to speak, just nodded her head dumbly at the Killer.  
Scared for her own life and the lives of her friends, the runner allowed herself to be led into the warehouse by the monster.

"Oh shit." Jake hissed under his breath. His eyes darted between Meg and his companions, before he gestured at Nea for her to come forward. "Nea, he took her. He fucking took her."

 _"What?"_ Nea shouted, louder than she meant. With a panicked gait the Swede came back over by the others. Though she only managed to see a glimpse of the runner's hair disappearing into the building.  
"This is insane."

"We have to go get her." Laurie spoke abruptly. "Come on." Before any of them could stop her, the woman just stood up, brushing the dirt from her jeans and sauntered off towards the warehouse. The saboteur and urban artist gaped before the shock finally wore off. Jake was the first to go, hardly deterred by Nea's attempts to grab at his coat.

"Laurie, hey wait!"

"Jake- god damnit Jake, stop!"

He ignored her. He knew she wouldn't be all too happy with him later, but he didn't care.

"We're saving Meg."  
Laurie announced, without looking over her shoulder. She lacked her usual fearful glances over her shoulders, this time walking casually and calmly.  
"It's too late now to go back, and we aren't leaving without her."  
With that, they really had no choice. Dwight not being there left an open spot for a defined leader. And Laurie fit that role perfectly. As she reached the door into the warehouse, Jake and Nea quickened pace to keep up with her. No turning back.

When Meg was brought into the building, she was sure she was going to die. She was certain Trapper was leading her away just to murder her.  
However, he did something that surprised her. As soon as they were inside, his grip loosened on her arm until she could've easily broken free had she tried. Towards the back, there was a large trunk, which he went over to and opened with his free hand, crouching beside it.  
There, under a blanket that was quickly removed, sat jars and jars of food. Mostly fruit and vegetables it looked like. Meg thought she was going to scream.

"Oh my fucking _god_."

"Language." Trapper said gently. He let go of her arm finally all the way, and began to pull out the mason jars. She saw peaches, green beans, corn, carrots, and some other things. In all, he handed her as many as she could feasibly carry whilst leaving some for himself and placed the blanket back, closing the trunk.  
"That should hold you for a bit. I'll let Phillip and Herman know about the food situation, I'm sure they will understand."

The runner blinked, holding the jars to her chest. She just felt so... tongue-tied. Tonight was the source of a lot of information, and honestly her brain was having a rough time keeping up.  
"Phillip? Herman?" She asked finally, voice timid.

Trapper nodded, before realizing his error. "Aah.. sorry, _Wraith_ and _Doctor_ as you know them. Good men." He was silent for a moment, staring behind her. It was obvious the three other Survivors were trying to hide behind an inactive generator, but he could clearly see the green of Nea's tank top against the gloom.  
"Alright, go along, you four. Go back home. Feed your friends."

Four pairs of little eyes peered up at him. The awe on Meg's face was now apparent… and slightly annoying to the big killer. With an annoyed grunt, he grasped his cleaver off a nearby ledge and raised it threateningly.  
"Get!"  
He thundered.  
The runner let out a yelp of surprise and high-tailed it for the door. Jake, Laurie, and Nea were not far behind of course. The Trapper stood threateningly with his cleaver at his side, his raspy breaths seeming louder than ever as they fled. Once they were out of sight and into the Fog, he shook his head derisively and turned to walk deeper into the warehouse. Foolish kids, that's what they were. How any of them had a chance at survival much longer, he didn't know. But the Killer would be lying if he didn't wish to see them thrive. Everyone here was suffering- whether it was obvious or not. There was no winner in these Trials.

Meg could run until her legs gave out. She could easily sprint her way back to camp and in circles around every realm, maybe almost twice over, until her aching, bloodied feet couldn't carry her anymore. The girl had always thrown herself into activity and work to the point she didn't know anything else but the running. Whenever she was upset, she would go for a run. When she was bored, she would go for a run. If she was needing to think and clear her head… you get the gist.  
The others, however, were not as skilled in that department. After admittedly almost 10 minutes or so of non-stop running, she could hear Nea drop onto the ground with a grunt and a swear. Jake stopped his running to check on her, just as exhausted. He grabbed her arm and attempted to pull her back up, the urban artist responding in kind by grabbing onto his coat and getting to her feet.  
"Sorry guys." Meg grunted, adjusting the cans in her arms. "It's my fault for getting caught. And I shouldn't have ran off so far."

"No, it's not your fault." Laurie was quick to point out. She leaned against a tree beside the recovering Jake and Nea, panting softly in her own tiredness. "You didn't get us in trouble, and it isn't your fault we got caught."

"Yeah," Jake agreed with a groan. "At least we're.. kinda safe now."

A veil of silence laid over the group of Survivors for a while. The four of them stood and rested, but not speaking a word to one another through it. It would've been awkward, had the feeling not been something they were so used to. Sometimes silence was the best thing.  
Once Nea recovered and Jake and Laurie were ready, Meg led the way on the walk back home. Well, if you could even call the Campfire home. And, this time, when the glow of the fire was back in their line of sight penetrating the fog, it seemed to take much less time. Strange… didn't it take over half an hour to get to the MacMillan Estate before? Had the Entity somehow moved things around?  
Meg pondered this as they trudged their way back to the others. If this beast truly controlled everything, surely it could move things at will, and even control which realms it would manifest at one time. The same way it could control the time it took to grow their food, and how potable the water was, and which Killer tormented them during Trials. It made sense from that perspective, but if that was inherently the logical solution or just her half-crazed mind piecing things together and grasping at straws she couldn't tell. God she needed a drink of water.

"Hey, you guys are back!" Dwight chirped. He smiled at them, giving a wave before adjusting his glasses. "Hey- Meg, whatcha got?"

The runner snapped out of her thoughts and she finally registered the leader speaking to her. She blinked for a moment before smiling and trotting over, setting the jars down.  
"You won't believe what just happened!"

"Is that.." Claudette exhaled shakily, staring. She couldn't believe it.

"Ohh, bloody hell, _where_ did you get real food, Meg?" David rubbed his palms together. He reached down to lift up one, studying the contents through the mason jar. "Hohohohh, carrots? Yesss~!"

Laurie came up to the campfire, standing beside Meg with her hands in her pockets. Her eyes rested on the jars they carried with them before raising up to Dwight. "We found the Estate out there in the fog. Turns out that Autohaven is connected to it. They both have different kinds of food that's only there outside Trials." She pulled out the Slim Jim's from Gas Heaven and set them down along with the jars. The other Survivors practically drooled at the sight.  
"Trapper gave us the canned stuff." Jake pointed out, sitting on a log away from the others. He had expected the shocked expressions of the others that immediately followed, and added, "So the Entity doesn't control them."

"Which does not mean they aren't dangerous." Nea snipped, taking a seat beside him on the log. The survivalist gave her a nasty look, narrowing his obsidian eyes, but saying nothing in response.

Claudette, surprisingly, was the next to speak. "Oh- oh, Meg your arm!" She got up and walked over to the other woman, studying it. "Oh geez… these bruises look awful." The botanist wasn't kidding. The fingerprint bruises were already turning a deep, angry red tinged with yellow, glaring against the pale freckled flesh.

"Trapper did that." Nea was quick to assert. Hearing the name made everyone a little more nervous.  
The runner shook her head a little, gently waving Claudette off and taking her arm back. "I'm fine." She insisted, resting a hand on the bruised portion of her arm. The newly formed contusion was sensitive and stinging at the contact but she did her best not to wince. The others didn't need to worry about her. She'd be fine.. at least, she would be once they could resume business as usual. Hopefully with more food, though. Definitely more food rations.  
Adjusting her braids, Meg sat down on a log next to David and leaned closer to the fire. The meager heat was a rather welcome feeling- and it took her mind off of her arm.

"David," Dwight scolded the Englishmen, who was clearly about to twist the cap off the jar of carrots. "We're rationing this food like everything else."

The scrapper let out a snort that reminded Meg of a bull about to charge. Surely he wouldn't clap back at Dwight? The two seemed to have a fine working relationship… at least she hoped so. David was a bit of an ass, but he did have self control. Some of it. Sometimes.  
Though, one of the man's favorite phrases was he "couldn't be arsed" to act right.

Finally, David growled in annoyance and set down the jar. "Ya can't just bring food in, and then snap at me for bein' hungry, you bloody… nrghh.. damnit." He put his chin on his hands, glaring at the ground and muttering to himself. It was honestly a sight like a toddler put in time out, making it all the more humorous.  
Meg snorted softly. That was better than the alternative.. that being David blowing up and causing a scene like the time Jake called him a shithead. Well, at least things in the meantime were calm.

Claudette and Dwight gathered up the new food and put it with their other supplies at the corner of camp, and stood there discussing how to ration everything out. With the new inventory it made things a lot more complicated, but they'd figure it out. They always did.

Meg sighed and slid off the log. She moved herself to the side opposite the fire and rested her head on the log, staring off into the dense fog. It was going to be okay, she told herself. They'd all figure out what to do with themselves, and they could keep properly fed for once. And escape Trials easier with proper rest and all that.  
However, as her eyelids started to droop and her consciousness began to slip into sleep, the runner was having a hard time believing it herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our upload schedule is every Saturday sometime during 12-9pm, Pacific Daylight Time.


	3. Chapter 3 - Laurie

It had been a week since Meg came back from her little adventure out in the fog, and roughly a week(or, at least what she perceived as sleeping seven times would amount to) since Laurie and the others had "the ever-loving shit" scared out of her by the Trapper. She wasn't really all that scared, though.

Meg had flinched, ending in the survivors getting food and Laurie didn't feel like faulting her for that. Well, they benefited from it so how could she fault her? It made no sense why Nea constantly badgered Meg about the whole ordeal, it only caused Meg to try and run faster after all. But, in the end, Nea <em>does</em> care about Meg. The two were practically inseparable when it came down to the final straw. Nea might just be trying to look out for Meg? Laurie wasn’t sure. 

She finally snapped out of her regular daze of sitting idly by the fire when Dwight started to wave a hand in front of her face. Looking up, not only he, but Jake and David as well were waiting with bated breath.

Then and only then did she feel the familiar soul-tugging grasp of a trial begging for her to walk into the fog.

“Aw, c’mon. I was having a fun time spacing out,” Her lips pulled into a smirk as she stood, dusting off her high-waisted jeans. 

“You know the drill, let’s get murdered,” David smiled back, beginning to take charge. Dwight immediately followed after him, almost like a lost puppy. 

A cold chill ran up Laurie’s spine as she stepped into the fog. There was no going back now. Well, not that Laurie could really go back to where and when she wanted to be anyway. 

The trial started normal enough, the four now completely separated, Laurie encased in one of the scrap walls and with a generator left in the corner. A deep blue fog encased the entirety of the land, making it very difficult to see. There was a building to her right, white walls and two flimsy floors.

Immediately, the blonde stepped over to the large generator, kneeling to get her hands close to the wires.

Despite the practical hundreds of times she did the menial task, it never got any easier. The Entity constantly changed the colors and thickness of the wires, making it a practical visual maze to figure out what was going on. She despised the game of cat and mouse, but to add on something that never got any easier? It was hell. 

Picking up a thick black wire, Laurie began to make haste on the gruelingly simple task. 

It had been roughly five minutes, a lot of connecting blue on blue with no sparking results before Laurie heard a deep revving rumble from across the estate. At least she knew who it was now.

The “match” went off without a hitch. The Hillbilly was easy enough to fool into a blind rage which made him all the easier to combat.

Laurie was busy praising herself for her most recent accomplishment, which happened to be stabbing him in the back and sprinting off at the speed of light(thanks to Meg’s runs with her).

It was late into the “game” now, and Laurie just had her stomach split open. She didn’t hear him coming up behind her, and inevitably, a deep gash made its way through her ribcage as the chainsaw made its maiden voyage against her bones and skin. She hated how it felt to feel her organs shlep out of her stomach, hitting the ground with a wet “plop”. A deep red-coated her shirt, organs and bones desperately trying to mend themselves whilst the crimson continued to flow from her chest cavity. Letting out a guttural scream, the chainsaw-wielding beast picked her up, thrusting his hand against and into her stomach. 

Lightheaded and feeling around desperately in her back pocket, she found her favorite piece of glass. Adorned with medical tape so it wouldn’t slice into her hand, she raised it high and drove it sharply into the creature’s shoulder. 

Screaming a shrill inhuman sound, it dropped her, and Laurie began to dart off.

Her organs began to seal back together as she took off(she put an arm around them so that they wouldn’t fall out), just one of the Entity’s blessings being that her body could repair at will. Well, the Entity's will. 

The gates powered up as she ran, and Laurie made a bee-line for the Macmillan exit as she bled profusely from her gaping stomach wound. The Hillbilly was on her trail, dead-set on incapacitating her. 

David was pulling the lever, hands trembling so badly that Laurie could see it 20 feet away. She continued to run, praying with every fiber in her body that she’d make it.

The cretin raised his hammer, ready to slam it into the blonde’s skull and make her as good as dead. Darting behind her, Dwight took a hit for Laurie. His shoulder now mangled and broken with a loud crack. He cried out in agony, but the three at least managed to make it out alive. 

When Laurie emerged from the fog, Jake was already sitting at the campfire, a canteen in hand as he drank a swig of the (barely) clean water they typically filled it with. He probably got out through the other gate, no strings attached. 

She and the others who quickly followed after her all sat down or near the campfire. 

Dwight's shoulder began to make the typical horrific cracking sounds that came with being hit by a sledgehammer and then having some weird bug-god thing resurrect your shoulder from its completely shattered state. She hardly noticed the squelching coming from her stomach as her organs sewed themselves together, but when she did she made a disgruntled moan of annoyance. 

"What's up Laurie," David queried as he knelt next to the canned food supply, beginning to rummage through its contents. "What's got you down?"

"I hate those stupid sounds, and the fact that they're so normal," she simply replied, putting her elbows to her knees and her head in her hands, "I don't exactly love the sounds of my organs rearranging and becoming one with each other."

"Aw, that's petty," Nea taunted from across the campfire. She had her hands wrangled in Jake's hair as she stood behind him. Speaking of Jake, he appeared pretty upset with the situation he was seemingly thrust into. But he wasn't pulling himself out of the situation, so Laurie had no quarrels here. 

"Yeah? And?" Laurie absentmindedly watched the blood un-soak itself from her shirt and almost crawl back into her (much smaller than it had been) incision. 

"Can you be quiet, I'm trying to count our herb supplies-" Claudette muttered from over in the garden next to the trees. 

"Sorry Claud," Dwight said. "You need some help? I'm sure Laurie would <em>love</em> to help." 

"Yeah, I would actually. What's going on Claudette?" Laurie replied snarkily, slowly letting her words become sweeter as she spoke. 

"Well," Claudette stood, brushing off her pants. "I need to gather more of the catnip and mustard seed off of Lampkin Lane. Jake, why don't you come along so you can show Laurie?" 

"Sounds like a plan." Jake capped his flask and proceeded to set it down on the log he was sitting on. 

So, the three set out into the dark and cloudy mist. Claudette took the lead while Jake and Laurie hung back a few feet behind them as they walked. 

It felt like hours just passing the same trees over and over again, a feature Laurie was used to in the fog. Regardless of how normal it now was, seeing the same trees over and over again was still annoying. At least she and Jake were talking to pass the time. 

"So, mustard seed is small and yellow, can be ground up into a paste typically for flavouring. It was also used by witches under the term "Eye of Newt", so whenever common people heard that they'd freak out." Jake made hand motions to show Laurie just how small the mustard seed was, and from what Laurie could tell they were about half a centimeter wide and tall. 

"Right, right. So why was it called "Eye of Newt"?" Laurie asked. 

"To be honest with you, I don't know. Hey Claud? Ya know anything about witch plant terminology?" 

"Not really," Claudette shrugged, not worrying enough to turn around. “Probably something to do with a Schrutean Compound or some other language development.”

Laurie nodded, turning to Jake to further ask him about other plants, such as “toe of frog”, “wing of bat” and “adder’s fork”. But Jake was wandering into the fog, completely veered off from the other two.

“Hey Jake! What’s going on?” Laurie called out, cupping her hand to her mouth to make it louder. 

“Trial!” Jake made his statement short and sweet, trotting off into the fog. 

“Alright then.” Claudette murmured.

Laurie came up beside her to continue the conversation.

“So what does Catnip look like?” She asked, hoping that Claudette in all her wisdom would reply. 

“Well, have you ever seen mint?” Laurie nodded. “It looks like mint. Catnip is Nepeta Cataria and Mint is Mentha, and both are part of the Lamiaceae family. They’re both used as herbs, typically for cooking. Spearmint is the oil extracted from mint and typically used in chewing gum or other candies. Catnip is, well, catnip. You basically train your cat with it or give them a good time.”

“So same family, different uses?”

Claudette gave a soft smile. “Exactly.”

Laurie and Claudette walked for another five or so minutes, discussing the how and why each fog in each trial location happened to be different before they came upon a few houses. Not just killer’s shacks, but real houses. 

“Alright. Let’s split up and cover more ground, like a couple of idiots,” Laurie suggested. 

Claudette shrugged “Well, I figured we were doing that anyway. Make less noise and whatnot,” she turned to Laurie. “I mean, what else are we supposed to do here?”

“That’s fair.” Laurie nodded. “So it’s settled, I’ll check the houses and you check the outdoors?”

“We didn’t settle that, but okay. You do that. Find some mustard seed.” 

Laurie took to the right, whereas Claudette began to pick around in the garden of the nearest backyard. 

Prowling the streets, evading the streetlamps, the blonde began to poke around. 

She explored a few houses, going kitchen to kitchen, bedroom to bedroom, looking for the simplest amount of mustard seed or any other herb.

But she was avoiding one place.

There was the crown jewel of Lampkin Lane. Michael’s(?) house. Well, Laurie wasn’t exactly positive it was Michael’s house. In the few times she had come to Haddonfield’s Lampkin Lane, she’d tried to avoid Michael as much as possible. He was a living nightmare, the devil incarnate, pure evil, after all. 

Anyway, Laurie felt like having a death wish all of a sudden. So she was going in.

Laurie stepped cautiously into the house, keeping her wits about her as she took a few more creaking strides inside. 

It smelled <em>god-awful</em> within the wobbly walls. Despite the drywall being so utterly weak, they did barely contain the smell of rotting carrion. Laurie had smelled it before, time and time again around the campfire when one small shadowy rodent died in their food stocks, or when the smell would drift in from the furthest corners of the fog. 

However, this was a much more malodorous odor. It had enough strength to probably knock a decently gross man(someone of the Wraith's size, perhaps?) off their feet in under a minute. Laurie plugged her nose with her left hand and headed further into the house. Well, she wasn't so sure if it deserved that title anymore with such a stench.

and pressed onward into the house. Well, if you could even call it a house with such a stench emitting from the building.

She entered a foyer, with a stairway and a living room to the right. Just behind the living room was a kitchen dividing counter, adorned with what looked like small black patches of fur atop the ledged counter.

Laurie crept closer, trying to keep her eyes and ears open in fear of what was lurking in the woods outside. Hearing a subtle dripping from the kitchen, she knew the only way out was forward. 

She made her way to the counter and indefinitely found the source of the rotten smell. They were carcasses, each of different size and shape splayed out upon the table. Some appeared to be small dogs, whereas others appeared to be much larger. On the kitchen table lay a beast as large as a bear, with chunks of fur and flesh missing from random places and viscera spilling all onto the floor. A deep, deep, reddish-black dripped onto the tile with a quiet <em>drip, drip, drip</em>.

Laurie immediately gagged. At least she couldn't smell it as prominently with her nose plugged.

It was then that Laurie heard breathing, deep and rough, as if against sandpaper or latex. She knew that breathing all too well. 

She didn’t bother to look behind her, she sped towards the door. It was closed. 

Michael was right behind her, she could feel his breath practically on her neck as she ran. Laurie took her elbow and bashed it into the window, slamming her whole body force with a jump as she fell through the open gap. 

Thanking Meg again silently for her help in running, she promptly rose from the glassy hell her body was being subjected to. Several shards stuck into her side, and everywhere that she fell, ripping her clothes to shreds. Laurie in that exact moment, however, could care less. She was off, like a bullet out of a gun or perhaps the racehorse hearing it, to be more precise. 

Either way, it didn’t matter. Turning her head to check on her progress, Michael was already out of the house, having crawled through the window by the ragged(and self sewing) evidence on his shirt. 

Suddenly, he was upon her, grasping fervently for her neck. He clenched his fist and began to squeeze. Michael raised her body by the throat, beginning to carry her in the direction of (what Laurie had always presumed to be) his house. 

Laurie tended not to worry about things. She was nonchalant, and almost timid when it came down to it. However, Michael scared everything out of her. If she wasn't so proud of herself for managing to avoid him so often, she'd be shaking in her boots right then and there, a deer in the headlights as he'd pin her into a wall and squeeze every last drop of life out of her. 

Laurie didn't like thinking about what would happen if Michael caught her. So, she kept doing what all the other survivors did, and she kept running away. Even she had no right to fight Michael in the Entity's realm, as The Entity made very evident to her over her many failed attempts to go for Michael’s jugular while she was being held up in the air. But the little victories she got from stabbing him in the shoulder until it bled a thick red ooze(just a quick reminder that he and the others were <em>actually</em> human) but it was never completely satiable to her ever-increasing appetite for revenge against the bastards.

Before all this, Laurie had friends. And she lost them to Michael. Now, she could lose her friends to Michael a hundred times over and still be able to escape. 

But this is bullshit. Laurie knows this is complete and utter bull, and will not stand for it encroaching on her lifestyle. 

Laurie was before, limp, trying to noodle her way out of the situation. Now, however, she tensed, bringing every bit of strength to her body as she kicked Michael. Directly in the groin. 

Michael let out a hefty grunt, his hands immediately loosening all grasp on Laurie’s throat. 

She sprinted, as fast as her lithe body could take her, darting down Lampkin Lane. Trying to avoid the street lamps by swerving into the backyards of her old neighbors, she was off into the dark without a second notice. 

Laurie was pretty sure Michael had the vision of some sort of nocturnal freak, especially since when she turned she swore she saw a glint of light underneath the mask. No doubt he had the eyes of an animal, with every ability to see and track her. 

Soon enough just twenty feet shy of her. He was encroaching on her space, giving her heebie-jeebies out the wazoo.

Unfortunately, without the pallets or flashlights she usually had at her disposal, Laurie felt screwed over. The Entity offered no protection from Michael, and she highly doubted her little pocket shard of glass would be half as much of a useful weapon as anything else. 

She stared down the backyards of Lampkin Lane, begging for anything to be in her sights to use to her advantage. 

That’s when she realized she didn’t have to follow the rules of a trial, there were no obligations. She’d fought Michael before and come close to winning(if Loomis hadn’t shot him though, well, she wasn’t too sure how it would’ve played out). Maybe she could pull something like that off again?

She suddenly turned, stopping herself from running. 

“C’mon big guy! Let’s tango!” She yelled at him, watching him take his last few strides towards her. 

He raised his blade, threateningly ready to plunge it directly into her chest. He swung down as Laurie waited for the right moment and-

She grabbed his wrist in one swift motion, taking her other she reached out to wrestle his left hand, putting every ounce of pressure into her hold as she wrestled the knife out of his right hand by attempting to crush his wrist.

Luckily, to get her off of him, he opened his hand, and he dropped the knife. 

Laurie dropped down to grab it nigh instantaneously, taking the blade and a few steps backward. Michael seemed stunned but continued to come upon her, knowing that it was likely a fluke. He was much, much stronger than her, even without a weapon. Laurie knew this all too well.

“Laurie,” Claudette screeched from the forest. 

Michael jerked his head to where the botanist had yelled from, and almost threatened to move over toward her. Instead, he lunged for Laurie who had happened to take quite a few steps backward. 

Tilting his head, Michael began to take a few almost tentative steps toward the two. 

The babysitter backed into the edge of the fog, feeling its cold grasp upon her shoulder. She dropped the knife at her feet, immediately bolting in Claudette’s direction. 

Laurie knew and had always known that she could never trust a killer. 

Michael was the worst killer of them all. 


	4. Chapter 4 - Evan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a bit of a rough night with the Entity's mind games, Evan's friends come to his aid and decide to help him out with a little bit of relaxation at the farm.

As far as the eye could see, there were only trees. Tall, endlessly tall trees, the moisture clinging to them making the air hang thick in one's lungs. Evan sprinted through them, feeling his shirt fabric tear on branches and scrape his tan skin.  
He had to get out. He had to get away. These fences were driving him insane. Everything felt so encompassing. Evan had never been a claustrophobic man but this was-

Painful.

A loud shriek, like that of a wounded animal leapt forth from his lips as he dropped to the fern covered forest floor. Evan cast a look downward to what he was already expecting. The jaws of a steel bear trap, sunk through his denim clad ankle like butter. He screamed again, this one desperate as he reached down to pry at the metal death trap. As soon as he barely grabbed at the sides though, his vision went white and fuzzy from the sheer volume of the agony it inflicted.  
Evan, after a few shaky tries collapsed. Hot tears were threatening to spill from his chocolate brown eyes. He was angry. And hopeless. He was never going to get out of this.  
He laid his head back on the grass, the emerald blades licking at and tickling his scalp. The tears of quiet, stifled rage were starting to come and he felt the wetness as they began to blaze a trail of sorrow down his cheeks to his chin, where they dripped off to the ground.  
_”You’re pathetic.”_  
Evan stiffened. He looked around wildly, starting to pant.  
_”Look at me, boy.”_  
“Father?” He cried out, a tremble within it. Swiveling his head back to look before him he beheld the figure of his aging father with a terrifying clarity. Archie MacMillan.  
Archie was walking fine, despite how he had left him in the basement of their estate. That was impossible. He took a mining hammer to him, swinging away with that device until Mr MacMillan drew breath no more.  
_”You tried to get rid of me Evan. Get rid of your old man. What kind of son does that to his father, huh?”_  
Yet, here the old man stood. Healthy as a horse. Clean of blood or any wounds- and a mining hammer in his calloused palm.  
_”So tell me, pup. Are you gonna take your medicine?”_  
The weapon raised above Archie’s head in a wicked arc, intending to be brought down upon his son’s head. Evan screamed, trying to struggle as the muscles in his stuck leg screamed out in despair. This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t real; He killed him. His father was dead.

Trapper woke with a start, a loud gasp tearing its way through his lungs. He practically threw himself off of his cot, stumbling through the warehouse deliriously. What the hell was that? What could…  
Too late to ask. He was already breaking into a shaky jog, as close to a run as he could in his sleep drunk stupor. The man reached the doorway of the warehouse just in time, leaning out to empty the contents of his already empty stomach. As the bile rose in his throat and was then expelled with what little was left of his dinner, Evan toppled to his knees. Dry heaves turned to sobs as there was nothing left in his belly to eject, the taste of vomit clinging strongly to his tongue. He finally leaned heavily on the doorway, shuddering and gasping. The smell from the grass was awful. But he ignored it for now, running his hands over his bare scalp.  
It had been a long time since Evan had a nightmare like that, or had a dream at all. Back when he first entered the fog and had his first Trial, slaughtering all four that round who hadn't been prepared for his cunning usage of the traps, that night when he laid down in the warehouse to sleep he was faced with a bad dream for the first time in the fog.  
That time, it was about all of the deaths, not just his father’s. His uncle, his mother, the hundreds of men lead into the mines that perished when Archie gave the order to let off the explosions. Being complicit was the worst part. Back in those days, Evan felt trapped. Completely unable to do anything to object, lest he be a stick in the gears of the mighty machine Archie MacMillan had built to sustain his massive fortune. 

Evan loved his father. But he was also terrified of him. Terrified of what he would do to his son, when he had gotten rid of so many others in his family because of his greed. But after he was weak and dying, Evan was no longer afraid. In fact he had been hopeful, knowing now he could be rid of that monster- but his work wasn’t done. No sooner had he murdered his own dad and fled into the forests surrounding the estate, a thick fog enveloped his body and he was brought into this awful place. A place where a symbol of his teenage torment was his main method of pain towards the survivors, though recently to make up for that he had been supplying them with food.

Was it because of that kindness that the Entity had punished him with such a vile dream? Perhaps. Though, it wasn’t like he could test the theory; Evan only had one nightmare prior, and it was during the rest following his first trial. Maybe it was just random- or a manipulation tactic by their cruel god. He couldn’t be sure.

Finally, the Trapper pushed himself to his feet, wiping his mouth with the acrid taste of stomach acid on his tongue. His belly, which had been empty even before vomiting, began to rumble. He sighed. It was going to be such a massive pain to eat now after feeling so ill. Well, oh well. With a heavy sigh the man brushed his hands against his coveralls and trudged back into the warehouse to look in the trunk full of canned goods.

“Hey.”

Evan nearly screamed. He jumped to his feet, rapidly swinging his arms to not fall over and regain some semblance of balance. Spinning, he practically snarled at the sight of the disturbing man standing in the doorway. “Don’t scare me like that, Philip!”

Wraith stared back at the other killer, nonplussed. The tree-like killer approached with careful steps, his hands hanging limply at his sides. Something about Philip, once you got past the sneaky nature and odd appearance, Evan found him almost comforting. He didn't speak too much. Rather, just enough to be understood; and the Trapper envied that about him. How okay he was with simply being an observer, watching things quietly and only making his wispy presence known if it was necessary.  
"Forgive me." The accent made the words rolling off his tongue sweeter. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Evan huffed lightly. Though he couldn't be mad at his friend for long. The other Killer meant well, always- especially towards his more or less best friend.  
"What did you need, Ojomo?"

In response, he just pointed off in the direction of the fog. Evan frowned slightly, giving him a quizzical expression.  
"Max. He misses you."  
"Oh."

Evan gave a quick nod and brushed off his coveralls, not bothering to take his mask with him. Philip didn't mind. He'd grown used to his fellow killer lacking the covering on his face.  
The walk to the farm, just beyond the barrier of endlessly thick Fog to the west, was silent. Almost reflective. Neither man wanted to speak, and they were both comfortable with saying little to nothing at all. It was just how things were when they were together. 

However, the thoughts buzzing in Evan's head would not ever quit. Not for every second he breathed it seemed.  
The trap. The endless forests he was running through. The fences. His father, standing there with the hammer. It all seemed nonsensical until you put the puzzle pieces together, but a crucial one was missing for the killer.  
Why exactly did the Entity give him that dream?  
He knew the beast controlled his dreams, like it sometimes controlled his thoughts during Trials. The Bloodweb, a strange dimension within the fog, was proof enough. The other Killers had confirmed to Evan that they, too, had a Bloodweb- the Survivors did too surely. But not one was ever the same. It was always changing, regrouping, restoring.  
Evan's rests were dreamless and oftentimes deep, lacking dreams of any kind, replaced instead with the Bloodweb, which he had found a way to have a semblance of control over. But never before had he actually had a dream until his first night and now.  
Sure, he had his theories. It could've been about the survivors. But why was that wrong? They weren't in a trial, and they must've been going hungry to go searching…

Evan heaved a sigh. He felt too much. Archie used to tell his son that- how the workers should mean nothing to him and how weak Evan is for making friends out of them. He hated the views of his patriarch; though sometimes when he looked in any sort of reflective surface he could see bits of that man in him. No, not a man. A creature of greed and metal.  
He balled his hands into fists and took a breath.  
_Calm down, MacMillan. You're overreacting._

"We're here." Philip mumbled, pointing off at something. Evan paused in his tracks and followed the direction of the man's slender finger.  
An old, two story farmhouse. Rotten and seemingly abandoned- though, of course it wasn't. A generator sat on the balcony of the second story, idle. Fields of golden corn surrounded the house, gently swaying in a breeze they couldn't feel.

Evan managed a smile. He could at least fake a good mood for the Hillbilly.  
Raising a cupped palm to his lips to amplify the sound, he bellowed.  
"Hey, Maxamillion! Come out and see me!"

Off further in the distance, beyond a massive tractor, the corn stalks began to be pushed aside, trembling as some force was acted upon them. Before long the whipping of the stalks became more violent as whatever it was picked up speed.  
A hulking figure, an aberration, appeared from the corn and began sprinting towards the other Killers. It roared in some sort of deep howl and limped towards Evan, it's overgrown shoulder causing it to slump forward.

"Good to see you, pal." Evan crouched down slightly, resting a hand on the Hillbilly's head. He ruffled the unwashed black hair, noting how it felt covered in dirt and dust. "Phil said you missed me, huh?"

Max grunted, wrapped his arms around the other's frame. The hug was accepted graciously and for the first time today, Evan couldn't help but smile genuinely. For such an odd and grotesque creature, Max was a good hearted soul.  
Full of anger at the world, naturally, and definitely protective of his land. But Philip and Evan had long since earned the Thompson kid's trust.

"Told you I'd find him." Philip quipped with a smile, his small white pinprick eyes studying Max. The other Killer made a loud groan type of noise, nodding. Although he couldn't manage speech in his deformity, possibly a malformation of his vocal chords or a lack of ever being taught spoken language, the others could somehow understand him usually. Just one of the odd perks of a friendship with 'billy.

"What have you been up to, Max?" Evan asked, crossing his arms. The shorter killer made a quiet noise and then limped back towards the nicely tended field, pointing at the stalks of maize. It was apparent some were very clearly missing, a sign he had been collecting some of the fruit of his labor. It was no secret to the other Killers that somehow, someway, Max had found a way to keep the corn alive. It was one of his food sources after all. And those were a precious thing for killers and survivors alike.  
"That so? Moonshine again?"

Max choked out a dry noise similar to a chuckle. It sounded a bit painful but Evan was used to the roughness of the noises the creature uttered.  
The hillbilly lumbered off back into his house before returning with a huge jug of a clear liquid sloshing around within. Both of the other Killers couldn't help but be a tiny bit excited at the sight; alcohol was a nice commodity. And Max liked to make it in spades with his family's old machinery. A reflection of an older time and an illegal business on behalf of the Thompsons.. but an appreciated one.  
Once Max came lumbering back with a clear jug filled with the swirling almost opaque liquid within, he handed it to Evan first.

The trapper raises his brows. Rarely ever had Max offered him alcohol first. He raised his hand up to protest, but the other just shoved the jug into his palms, almost making him drop in. Quickly, Evan snatched it back up and gave a scowl of vexed alarm. However, with a sigh, he grasped the cork and popped it off. The smell was so strong it was almost foul and it made him stifle a cough as soon as it reached his nostrils.  
Normally, you needed to cut the pungent alcoholic mixture with _something_. Whether that be water, juice, piss, blood- it didn’t matter. You were not supposed to drink moonshine like this straight; it was practically wood alcohol. But for Killers, the rules seemed to be a little different. If a survivor ever got their hands on this shit they’d surely be spitting out blood by the end of the night.  
Clearing his throat, Evan raised it to his lips and took a deep swig, wistfully hoping his worries would flow down into the shine and disperse into the drink. What better way to forget your troubles than drown in the spirits?  
The sting was immediate. It stung roughly against his throat and descended into his stomach with a big gulp. Swallowing the rest of it and hating the way it burned, he handed the jug off to Philip. The Wraith gave Evan a slight smile, raising it up to his lips. Evan couldn’t help but notice how little intoxication he felt..

A boisterous cacophony of guffawing echoed off the edges of the cornfield. Evan was sitting on the steps of the old farmhouse, his hands resting on his knees as he howled in laughter. Philip was leaning against his shoulder, the completely empty jug lying on the ground nearby.. Along with another jug beside it, and a third only containing less than a quarter of the shine in the Wraith’s hands.

Max laid on the ground on his back, his hands resting on his stomach. The three men had never gotten so drunk. Evan, who was the biggest out of the three, was certain he was even about to pass out.

With a grin, the monstrous man pushed himself up to his feet, wobbling- only to start giggling as Philip’s support was removed and he dropped onto his side.

“I- I gotta go _home.”_ The Trapper snickers, attempting to take a few steps in what he could only perceive to be the MacMillan estate. “I- I gotta… shit, where DO I live?”

Max and Philip absolutely lost their minds at the question. Evan turned around, staring at his friends and started to huff in amusement.

“I-I.. I m- I mean.. I mean it! Where… augh, I gotta sit down..”


	5. Chapter 5 - Feng

It was cold. Cold is the lack of heat; the chill consumed the entire area where Feng stood.

Feng felt nauseous. Her stomach twisted and writhed in ways she was positive weren’t normal. She could feel her intestines contorting, begging for her to wretch up any stomach contents she had. 

It was misty. The damp air tickled the raven-haired girl's nose.   
Feng stood in a forest, not the studio apartment she fell asleep in. Oak trees towered above her, reaching and scraping the boundless gray sky.

She stepped forward.   
Tripping on something, she stumbled into what appeared to be a clearing with a campfire. Taking a hesitant step forward, everything now seemed warmer. A few people sat around it, one girl with a beanie on her head turned to face Feng.

"Hey everybody, check it out, new fog addition," she said with a slight yet unplaceable accent, and the rest of the people turned to look at her.

"Oh boy, I was wondering when they'd show. Doctor came along but nobody really showed up immediately." A small red-headed girl spoke with a certain air of enthusiasm.   
Doctor? Weren't they in the woods? What in the hell was going on?

Clenching her fist, "Where, where am I," Feng finally managed to spit out.  
"Welcome to the nightmare," A large man said clearly. He had a thick accent, one Feng recognized compared to the girl. He was British. "You're in the Fog."  
"The Fog?" Feng mimicked, feeling the words slide off her own tongue for a change.  
"The Fog is basically the realm we all reside in outside and inside of trials." A blonde woman in a faded blue blouse sauntered over from behind her. "And c'mon, stop scaring the poor girl with all these terms she doesn't understand."

Feng blinked a couple of times before speaking. She felt like she was going to vomit right then and there.  
"What's a trial?" She stared with wide eyes. Were these people dangerous? They were implying she was in a different dimension, and boy was that just whack.   
"Well, basically we're forced into a different dimension entirely, and forced to run from a ruthless murderer. It's pretty great." The red-head spoke again, the blonde nodding.   
"Every time a new killer shows up, we get a new one of us. We've been surviving here for," beanie girl smiled and looked over to a mousey office-worker looking guy who sat next to the British man.  
"About five months," He responded, pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

Everything suddenly hit Feng like a freight train.   
She'd been sapped into another dimension, just like all of those crapshoot books she'd read as a kid. Everything was not fine. This was the opposite of fine.  
Her long-standing career with The Shining Lions, just gone.   
Her parents would think she left and never came back, or became homeless, or just mooched off of their money until she bled them dry enough to leave without feeling guilt for those basically dead.  
Feng fucking Min was not going to live in an inescapable Magic Treehouse adventure, dammit. 

"And I just... Live here now?" Feng flailed her arms, only to have them flop down to her sides like dead fish.  
"It's not that bad." A Korean man spoke up from the back. "Calm down."  
"You want me to calm down? I'm speaking monotone! Well, now I'm not, but that's semantics."  
"We need to generally teach you about how to live, then you can go off and do whatever you want outside of trials." He spoke again, very calm, very serious, and monotonous. "Hell, you could try to live with the killers for all I care."

This was now her time to speak, and therefore, her time to rattle of incessant questions. "Okay, break this down for me. What's a trial? Why do I need to live outside of them? Why can't I just not do trials? You're making them sound inescapable."  
She breathed a little heavier now, feeling the breath against her teeth.   
"Well, trials are basically little murder fests. Four of us, Survivors," the British man gestured to everyone. "get sapped into a different area. There's a couple specific locations, like the Red Forest or Autohaven."   
"You get put in there with a monster," the girl with the beanie continued. "A real sick fuck that just loves to kill you, rip you apart, stuff you onto a meat hook, and watch you get sacrificed to The Entity."  
"The Entity is basically a giant spider god that controls the Fog and the trial realms." The office boy spoke up again. The red-head nodded, her braids cascading down her shoulders in waves as her head moved. 

"I'm just here to die?" Feng's stomach became a gnarled mess again as she fought back the tremble threatening her confident, yet bitchy, tone.  
"I wouldn't say that. We usually escape." The Korean stood, dusting himself off.   
"That implies you don't always get out alive," Feng filled with worry, her words reflecting that in a bitchy tone of sheer annoyance.   
"We don't. Some killers are more ruthless than others. Myers and Doc are total bastards." The blonde chimed in. 

"But," the Brit continued, "We do have our methods for screwing with them too."

He sounded like he was going to start some long, boring ramble. Feng wasn't having it.   
"I don't care! I don't want to be here!" Feng snapped. "I have stuff to do at home! I have a family! I have a championship this week!" 

Everyone stared at Feng, their eyes bleeding into her subconscious. Man, she really messed up for them all to be looking at her like that, huh? 

"Hey, take a chill pill, let's talk this over," The red-head girl started again, starting to walk towards Feng.  
She felt her face go hot as she backed away tentatively. Her tone, however, did not match how nervous her body language was. Hopefully, they saw it more as frozen in anger rather than the freezing fear she felt in the fibers of her being. "Fuck this, and fuck all of you for acting like this is normal!"   
The Korean stood, starting to approach her as well. 

Feng then had to make a decision. Let her adrenaline kick in, and likely leave, or start a fight with said adrenaline. If the latter happened, she'd be screwed. That British brute looked stronger than the others, so did the blonde and the Korean. So fighting wasn't an option. Running would be bad if any of them had tracking experience or cross country like she once did.   
Inevitably, Feng made a decision.

Bolting off into the woods like a streak of light, Feng was gone. She made sure to take a couple zigs and zags, never quite going in the same direction for long. If any of them had tracking experience, she was screwed. If any of them ran just as fast as her after they found her path, she was screwed. If anyone new found her, like one of those monsters they kept describing, she was screwed.

After the first few minutes, Feng could feel her muscles burning.

Ten minutes in, she felt so out of breath she could collapse.

Fifteen, she was going to throw up if she kept going.

Feng collapsed against a large metal dumpster. The illusion of cold danced upon her skin, feeling as if someone was probing at numbed skin with a piece of ice or cold air. However, there was a dumpster, so perhaps Feng had an exit? And if not an exit, a building away from those "Survivors" for long enough until she figured out what was going on.   
Forearms and elbows pressed to the dumpster, Feng hung her head low. She was completely doomed for the season. If she never went back to the exact moment she came in, asleep on October 22nd in her nice soft bed, waiting anxiously for her next competition, her whole career was ruined. Years of training to play League of Legends, all just gone. She was a pro at minion management, and soon her skills would slip. If she went back, <em>if</em> she went back, she would likely have lost all her skill by then. Her place with The Shining Lions? Essentially evaporated. 

Taking a moment to stop and smell the roses, Feng noticed something. Oddly enough, the dumpster didn't smell all that awful from where she was standing. Recalling her trash-girl job during her teenage years, she knew that this was not what a dumpster was supposed to smell like. Feng raised her head.   
She pulled herself closer to the dumpster, trying to pick up on any scents. Immediately, there was nothing. Suddenly though, like a bag of marbles to the face, Feng felt the malodorous stench of something metallic piercing her nose. 

Feng immediately recoiled as she saw the bodies tossed haphazardly into the waste container. Her stomach gurgled unsurprisingly, having taken in the image of not one, but five roasting bodies slowly cooking from the inside out.  
She couldn't really hold back whatever her stomach contents were anymore, heaving over the dumpster despite her best attempts to shy away from the literal hot mess presented to her. Instead, Feng made the whole ordeal infinitely worse by vomiting straight upon the corpses.  
Wiping the last smudge of bile from her mouth, Feng decided it was time to remove herself from the "false" cold outside of the building.  
Stumbling inside, careful to avoid the counters and several hospital beds piled up haphazardly within the room, Feng felt completely isolated. The supposed institution seemed familiar, and Feng somehow recognized it as a memorial institute. She wasn't exactly sure how or why she had this information, but she knew she had it. Despite feeling unsafe in the togetherness with the other people she had met, she still felt together. Like she wasn't just drifting in and out of nothingness.  
Still, she pressed into the building, starting with the left side.  
She suddenly felt less alone the further she went, though.

Something had awakened inside the institute, sensing someone had wandered into its domain. The very source of survivor fear- a crazed man who was only known as The Doctor.  
He wheezed through his teeth, a painful smile forced across his face with a metal contraption as his eyes jittered wildly in his skull. A soft sizzle of electricity crackled up his arm.  
A new test subject for his twisted games, how wonderful. Now he just needed to get close.

She felt as if a million eyes pressed directly into her. A feeling Feng knew all too well as one of The Shining Lions' main competitors for their little games. This, however, was much more real. This was entirely real. She wasn't just being watched on a screen (to her knowledge, anyways) but rather, physically. Every breath she took drove her into excessive paranoia.  
Feng was willing to deter whatever came her way, though. That, or die a horrible death. It wasn't like her whole future was thrown away the second she entered "The Fog"  
Feng dug further into the institute, silently deciding to herself that she would search for the direct center of the building. She was going to keep going until she exited or felt satisfied by exploring the new location.

The killer casually swung in an opposite direction she went, knowing an easier route through the maze of confusing hallways to the center of the building.  
No matter how many times the Entity tried changing things around on him, the Doc knew his realm by the back of his charred hand. He had killed so many men here, used such cruel tactics against every law of human nature, and he would just push himself further.  
Once he could see a glimpse of sleek raven hair and Feng's heartbeat began to race he smirked even more into the metal.  
A dark chuckle escaped him, maniacal and high pitched. She knew he was there for sure now.

Feng felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to prickle.

"Hey, can you like, go fuck yourself?" Turning around with the confidence of twenty maximum-security inmates, Feng threw her arms up just to be met with the rather large man.  
His body wasn't a necessarily intimidating shape, rather just a large rectangle with slightly broad shoulders. However, as she stared directly into his eyes she knew exactly what was wrong. His eyes were, first of all, pried open with small metal wires, no doubt scratching his eyes every time they moved, second, the pupils were shot to the size of pinpoints, and third, his irises were white. Not to mention, the large almost kanabo-like weapon he smacked against his hand.  
Feng did not, in the slightest, regret what she had said.

Herman wasn't phased by her words. David, Laurie, and others had tried that on him before.  
He laughed again, this one louder and more insane, echoing off the walls of the building as he seemingly started to gather electricity in his hand somehow.  
Before Feng could move away, a shockwave of electricity moved out from his body in a cone along the ground and surged into her small body.

Feng immediately doubled over, not at all used to the amount of raw electricity pulsing through her entire nervous system. How anyone could withstand it was beyond her.

She felt more bile worm its way up her throat, feeling herself collapse upon the ground as the yellow liquid trickled out of her mouth.  
Feng heard him cackle, and cackle, and cackle. He approached her trembling form with a certain aura of power Feng wasn't sure anyone outside of a horror film should have.  
Feeling only the rough sensation of her throat becoming raw as she coughed. She watched him for a few more seconds before her vision began to blip in and out, finally becoming black.

When Feng awoke much later, she couldn't move. Cold metal was pressed sharply against her back, leather restraints similar to those of a patient who would've resided in such a mental institution could've been contained by. On a table nearby, a bloody sheet was laid out, instruments designed to harm and bring pain rested upon the stained surface. They looked almost rusty, definitely stained with dried blood.  
Herman was working on something with his back turned to her. He hummed breathily through the metal prying apart his lips, picking up a screwdriver from the set of tools and using it to adjust some part of the device. 

Feng took another look around the room, taking a few looks to make sure she was seeing everything correctly.

"Hey fuckwad, you just gonna rip off of that one shitty My Little Pony fanfiction? Cut off my thigh, maybe? Drive me full of adrenaline and make me piss myself," She could feel the dried bile re-wetting upon her lip, causing a stinging acidic smell to become more effective.

The only thing this crazed dude was missing would be the crazy decorations, but the creepy hospital vibe more than made up for it.  
Feng had gotten a series of invasive nasal tests done when her team got shut down for illness. Having weird things in weird places would be no different, just with more nerve severing.

"You gonna say something or is your mouth pried open too wide, smiley?"

Herman didn't look at her, but he was thoroughly amused. A feisty one this was. He set down the screwdriver, where it gently clacked against the other tools and he continued. She still couldn't see what it was.

"I can speak just fine, miss."  
Though he did have a nasty lisp. His voice was thick was saliva through heavy breathing.  
"You're a resilient one, aren't you? Aside from how you dropped like a bag of hammers, but I guess you don't have much experience with electricity."

When the "Doctor" turned to face her, polite enough to let him finish speaking, of course, she spat into his open mouth.  
Seeing as he could not close his mouth, and therefore, could not spit back, this seemed to be the best course of action for Feng to take.  
If she was going to die today, she wanted it to be as painful as possible.

Herman reeled, no doubt disgusted and startled. Hell, anyone would be. That was disgusting and part of him was still human.  
He picked up a rag from the table and wiped his mouth and lips.

"Now that was rude, young lady."  
The killer sighed, tossing the piece of cloth and leaning against his desk as he looked at her with crossed arms, keeping his distance now.  
"I'm sure your parents taught you manners, but you clearly have an attitude problem. Now, I don't want to be vulgar, but knock that shit off. We're having a conversation."

Feng curled her right hand into a fist. "Well actually," She extended her index finger, "I'm tied to a table," her middle, "you're about to cut me open," her ring, "and we're both just talking to each other to evade the unrelenting fear of awkwardness as you slice into my stomach, no doubt stealing my organs to sell on the black market. Hell, you could double your cash by calling them "Gamer Girl Organs"."

Feng smirked, knowing full well that this obviously middle-aged man would, yet again, go through some bout of confusion.

Herman stared at her. Her observation was, of course, astute. He was rather old- older than her by a few decades. And he was dated long before gamer girls were selling their bath water on eBay.

"You misunderstand."  
He rasps, his odd white glowing eyes twitching back and forth, back and forth. It's like they couldn't stay still.  
"I do enjoy Survivor company.. sometimes. For my amusement. But if you have no conversation or entertainment to give, I can just kill you. I'm sure my boss wouldn't mind."

This was, naturally, true. The Entity seemed rather fond of the Doctor's sadistic nature.

"Where's the fun in that, huh?" The self-proclaimed "Epic Gamer" almost mocked. Herman seemed to twitch in a manner that Feng could only interpret as a nod, so she kept pressing on. "I'm entertaining, right?"  
She struggled to point to herself. Damn her exceptionally hand-driven speaking skills.

Herman stared at the young woman for a long time, clearly pondering it. His body twitched lightly as a spark was spent through his flesh. His arm sizzled and popped loudly, but he didn't flinch.

"You must be from a sooner time period than I, judged on your words. The games I'm familiar with are along the lines of Space Invaders, Pong maybe."  
Feng tried to hold back her laughter as best she could, at most sputtering out a chuckle.  
"Okay, that's hilarious. But, pardon my french, what the fuck do you mean "different time"? It's 2019, isn't it?"  
She practically beamed at the thought of someone who still didn't even know what Minecraft was. Feng was just as perplexed as she was giddy.

"2019?"  
Herman exhaled softly, shaking his head. He definitely felt old now.  
"I'm dated.. oh, what year was the project..."  
Project MKAwakening had happened so long ago in Feng's time. She probably heard about it in history books, along with a project of an eerily similar name. Léry's Memorial Institute certainly had a history.  
"Mid 1970s or so? I was in college in the 60s, before the government picked me up."  
"Oh jeez... I'm uh, sorry for your loss I guess? I'm guessing you're talking about a personal passion project," Herman looked rather downtrodden before she said that. Now he looked like he was going to verbally spew an essay into her, a fate worse than death. "But I'm guessing that's not true based on how you're looking at me."

Herman's tongue flicked across his teeth, obviously wanting to talk about it.  
"Are you familiar with American history around that period? I guess my life would be history to you kids.. I was in charge of extracting information from prisoners. Soviets."  
He turned back to the table and picked up what he was working on. It was a harness that went around the head, with two full syringes and wires coming off of it.  
"I was the best at it. Liberal use of ECT tends to drive men mad.."

Feng now had to completely restrain herself from making any odd moves. She had to keep calm, or she was going to have her head cut up like a pineapple.

"What's ECT?" Feng warily spoke, trying desperately to keep her fists from clenching and trying to writhe out of the restraints that would just rub her wrists raw.  
He looked back to her, one of his hands rested on the desk tapping rhythmically.  
"Electro-Convulsive Therapy."  
Feng had gotten a little too up close and personal with Dr. Carter's brand of ECT. He showed his free hand to the young woman, where there were small crackles of electricity still buzzing on his charred fingertips. It was like his entire body was connected to a power line, who knows how many kilowatts coursing through his veins. It was a little scary to think about.  
"You see, I hate limitations. I hate rules. And, luckily for someone like me, so does the government. That's why they hire people like me."  
More like why they hire sick sadistic bastards like him.

Feng bit back a response about hating the modern government of America, assuming that he <em>was</em> American.  
Regardless of this man's present, or at least present before they got sucked into The Fog's menagerie, nationality, Feng was more than terrified. She could practically feel the raw power simply emitting from this beast of a man.  
"Man" was likely no longer a term eligible to describe him, anyway.

Despite this, Feng pressed on.

"So you just gonna keep me tied up or-" She shrugged, as much as she could anyway. "I'm not judging for any kinks or anything, I just wanna know how soon I can get blood flow back to my hands."  
It took every cell in her body not to scream.

"You should really learn to watch your mou-"   
A clatter from a room nearby. The Doctor turned his head, eyes twitching rapidly back and forth between Feng and the direction of the sound. He seemed stunned, licking his lips again. Feng decided that he needed chapstick.   
"I'll be back momentarily."   
He took long strides towards the door to the left of the room and disappeared from her vision. 

Sitting in the general quiet of the now essentially empty room, Feng was trying to pick up on any other noise. She heard the faint fizzing of what she assumed was The Doctor and a smaller clatter nearby.   
The British man appeared in the doorway, crouched against its frame. He had a hatchet in his hand, no doubt ready to steal the kill from The Doctor. 

"Alright, doll, let's get you out of here," he muttered, standing up next to the vertical table, pulling the leather straps from her wrists to, apparently, cut them. He did so very carefully, with a gentleness Feng would never expect from such a burly man.   
Feng, now with her hands free from their binds, could help this man on setting her ankles free from their own restraints.   
They made quick work of the straps and as Feng rubbed her wrists, she mouthed a small "Thanks". 

They began to worm their way through the Memorial Center, now one that Feng recognized as Léry's. Each twist and turn led to fewer exits of the rooms they stayed in while sneaking out of the area.  
Eventually, they found that same dumpster outside the building, and they got off scot-free. Just a few steps from freedom.  
Yet no terrifying end seemed to befall them.

The British man then chucked the hatchet over his shoulder and into the dumpster, hearing the loud clang. He then, to little surprise, started sprinting, Feng not far behind. 

"So, you alright?" He queried, a little out of breath as they ran.   
"Well, I had it handled." Feng quickly retorted.   
"Handled? You were strapped to a table." He snickered.   
"I was working on that part. I was stalling him."


	6. Chapter 6 - David

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David King loves a fight, but sometimes he likes to tango with things that are a bit too big for him. After all, that's what got him here.

_55, 56, 57, 58…_  
David huffed quietly, pumping his arms up and down in a pushup form. His muscles weren’t strained yet, but the constant movement was making him get a little more tired than he should’ve been.  
 _59, 60, 61, 62, 63..._  
It wasn’t like the Scrapper even needed the excess exercise. The running and jumping from the killers was enough, all the stress and shocks to his system exhausting him as much as everyone else.  
 _64, 65, 67, 68…_  
But he still insisted on keeping a consistent schedule. Him and Meg would go for runs together, sometimes joined by Feng, and he would later sequester himself into the woods to do his own thing. This particular day- or was it night? Evening? Who knew -David had started early before the early run with the girls, just as a warmup of sorts.  
 _69, 70, 71, 7-_

“You shouldn’t keep pushing yourself.”

The Brit paused, looking over in the direction of the one who spoke. A familiar bespectacled individual stood just at the corner of the copse of trees David was sheltered in. Dwight gave him a nervous smile.  
David smirked. “Well if it isn’t our glorious leader.” He grunted softly, sitting up before pushing himself to his feet. The sight of his bare chest shining with a sheen of sweat made Dwight avert his eyes, suddenly embarrassed to be around the scrapper. “I’m just getting a head start on the competition, poindexter, that’s all.”

Dwight adjusted his glasses with a huff. “Meg isn’t your competition, c’mon. And besides, it isn’t a race- but if it was, you know she’d win.”  
The scrapper furrowed his dark brows. Well, he couldn’t really argue with that point… and he knew, too, that girl would do anything to be ahead. With a shrug he slipped his shirt back on, taking the clothing item off a branch it was hanging off of to return it covering his form. Running a hand through the tuft of taupe hair atop his head, David took a few steps to the side and crouched. Their stream beside the campfire ran into this part of the trees nearby, and he cupped his hands within the liquid before bringing his palms to his lips to drink. The water in this part was icy cold, and for the time, clean. It was a welcome stimuli to his overheated body.  
“Sorry if you came to watch me, but I bet Meg is waitin’ for me.” He turned to look at Dwight, smirking. “You can always ask me to flex for you or somethin’, I’m nice like that.”

The teasing response made Dwight roll his eyes and turn away, walking back towards the campfire. There was a soft smile on his lips regardless that David definitely noticed, and he chuckled to himself. Lately, he’d been feeling a sharp fondness for the other man. A gentle, swelling sensation of butterflies in his broad chest whenever Dwight spoke, and he easily took note of how the other man’s voice would become confident when he spoke of a game plan for what they were to do. Dwight organized everything, directed them during Trials, and he could always respect that.  
With a grunt, he shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts of the glasses-clad leader and walked back to join the others.

A quick scan around the camp showed business as usual. Claudette was tending to their plants along with the new stuff they planted, Laurie and Dwight were recording how much was in the food store and how much clean water they had left, Feng was still asleep, Nea lazily lying on her sleeping bag talking to Jake who was on a log beside her looking groggy; two of their new additions, Bill and Ace, were sitting around the fire and chatting idly. The sudden appearance of the three newcomers had notably sparked some concern in multiple members of the existing group.   
Just how many more people were coming to be subjected to this hell along with them? The campfire was running out of room to shelter and sleep people, and food and water were always a struggle to keep up even with the new bigger garden. David gave the others a curt nod as he passed, stepping over Feng’s sleeping form carefully, not wanting to accidentally step on her and not only wake her up but probably break something. He was a big guy after all.

Off at the corner of their clearing, Meg was stretching in preparation for their jog. He came to stand nearby her, crossing his arms and smiling. The redhead gave him an upwards nod of greeting.  
“Hey, bro. Ready to start?”  
The Brit opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a shout nearby. The pair turned their heads to see Nea tugging on Jake’s jacket. The survivalist looked thoroughly detached and frustrated.  
“Hang on guys, I’m coming!” Nea, after shouting to the two survivors, grasped onto the man’s arm and tugged on it. “Jakey, Jakey, c’mooon! Just for a second.” 

Jake groaned loudly before crouching down, causing the urban artist to grin and climb out of her sleeping spot and onto his back. He grunted, frustrated and probably a bit embarrassed, before carrying her over to a laughing David and Meg.  
David couldn’t believe it. The lengths Jake would go to make Nea happy. It was as endearing as it was laughable. In modern lingo, one would have called him a SIMP- but considering the artist wasn’t really mediocre and was generally a cool person it was hard to make fun of him. Jake was just trying to find reprieve in someone else’s company, a change David found both endearing as well as almost out of place for the man’s behavior.   
“Are we ready to go?” The Brit asked, watching with mirth as Nea hopped off the dark haired man’s back and nodded to David. 

“I know I am.”

“You made Jake carry you, you didn’t even walk over here on your own and you wanna run!” Meg teased her, laughing. Nea hit her arm with a snicker.  
As they were all turning to leave, though, Dwight and Laurie quickly approached. “Hang on, Dave, we’re coming too.”  
The scrapper chuckled and invited them with a sweep of his hand. The more the merrier, whatever. Feng and Claudette could stay at camp and bullshit with the old men while they all enjoyed a "morning" of exercise and company.

Only, of course, that wasn’t going to happen. The Entity was unnaturally good at ruining a good day- or perhaps that was a skill that came with being an interdimensional being with godlike powers over its own pocket universe.

_I fucking hate trials._ David thought bitterly to himself as the wicked claw of the Hag tore flesh and muscle on his shoulder. He dove in front of the wounded Jake a moment earlier, taking a protection hit as the other survivor turned tail and fled as far away as he could. But with her intended prey lost and a new survivor taunting her, the Hag was definitely not pleased.   
The killer snarled and bared her wicked teeth, raising her claw again. No way David was getting hooked again to this thing. They already lost Nea. Tapping into what was left of his adrenaline as much as it pained him to neglect a fight, he turned and ran like hell into the cornfield. Luckily, being on Coldwind instead of that damn stinking swamp made hiding a bit easier.  
Another good addition was that the Hag was short and somewhat slow, at least by killer standards. She could out run David if they were running in a straight line, but darting around and running in circles to confuse them or ducking around trees, losing line of sight in any way really was helpful. And after leading her in circles, covering the floor of the field with his scratch marks and ducking behind the tractor, it wasn’t long before the Hag began to cry out in frustration and run off somewhere else, giving up the chase. Good riddance.

The rusty generator nearby sparked faintly behind a wooden wall. Clearly repairs had been attempted, but were suddenly interrupted. Smoothing a hand over his short hair, the survivor resumed a crouched pose and headed towards it.  
As soon as he passed a locker adjacent to the gen, though, the door creaked slowly and out came a familiar face. Dwight. David smirked.  
“Hey there.” He greeted with a grunt of pain, closing the gap between him and the machine to begin fixing the wiring. Dwight gave him a disgruntled pout, his lips tightening into a frown and brows furrowed into an expression nearly resembling a spoiled child who didn’t get something they asked for.  
“Don’t judge me.” He whispered, walking over to the other side of the generator.. before pausing to stare at David. “You’re hurt.”  
The scrapper passively waved his hand, grimacing slightly. “It’s a flesh wound.”  
Dwight looked David up and down, his eyes twitching and sputtering. They reminded David of a nervous animal, though he wasn't sure what type. Finally, as Dwight stated right into his eyes, it hit him. He reminded him of a shrew. Not necessarily a mouse, something slightly stronger than that. He smiled.   
"You're not the Black Knight," Dwight half-laughed. His face fell a bit. "Why, why are you smiling?"  
David rolled his eyes with amusement, reaching inside the generator to poke around for wires to attach. While he was speaking, he checked the panel for instructions. God, he should've brought a tool box.  
"Because I'm fine, and you're gettin' all mushy over me again, like last time."  
Dwight's face swiftly changed as he snickered. He grinned wide, a soft warmth encompassing almost every move. Suddently, the smaller then let out a quiet "fuck", as he connected some wires and David heard the small sound of singe as Dwight quickly retracted his fingers.   
He could really hear that laugh forever, if it wasn't for the constant interruptions. David cast a sideways glance, watching the other for a moment. What a strange man they had chosen to be their leader, but that oddness made him perfect for a world like this.  
"Quit burning your fingers."  
He teased softly, successfully connecting a pair of wires without exploding the machinery.  
"I thought I was the irresponsible one."  
"You are." Dwight muttered as he continued to fumble with each individual wire. His voice sounded as if he muffled it with a pillow, tender and low. Likely a habit to evade nearby killers.   
David wasn't always as focused on where the killers were at all times, likely just proving Dwight's point and making anything he had to say moot in response. David prided himself on confrontation. Aggravating killers and managing to evade capture while being a lone wolf was his specialty.  
When the generator was almost finished, he looked to Dwight.  
"You seen Jake since I saved his tail? Or you too busy hiding in lockers?"  
The question was playful rather than mocking. But he wasn't even whispering anymore, just talking lowly.  
Dwight's brow scrunched for a second, but he quickly caught on to what David was saying. He began to head for the next generator he saw the lights for off in the distance.   
"No, I haven't."   
It was then that Dwight pricked up. He appeared to be listening for something, so David followed in his footsteps and listened as well.   
At first, nothing. Then, out of the blue, light footsteps.   
This was either disaster, or a friendly. David paused his progress on the generator and turned around to face Dwight. He took a step forward, only to groan in pain as his nerves cried out. His wounded arm, similar to any injury, caused him to slouch forward and limp. With a furrowed brow he came to stand beside the nervous leader. The look he gave him wordlessly spoke "run or stay?"

Dwight didn't need to stay anything. He immediately turned tail, running in the opposite direction of the noise. At least he had the right idea. David swallowed harshly before following Dwight's example and running for it in the other direction. Of course, just their luck that that cannibal bitch would turn right around and come for their ass.  
Why couldn't she check the farmhouse again, every Killer checks the farmhouse-

Just then, a loud alarm signaling the last generator was fixed and the gates were powered.  
"Jakey man, you're a bloody rockstar."  
David muttered under his breath, relief washing over him despite seeing and hearing the killer nearby. Now they just needed to find the exit gates. Breathing heavily, he started in the direction of the last place he saw one of the two gates. He just hoped to whatever god, or maybe to the Entity, that he wasn't the one the Hag decided to pick up the trail of.  
By the time he was nearing the gate, he caught sight of Jake meandering his way into the house. Probably for the chest at the bottom of the stairs.  
David gave a hushed "hey" to alert the other survivor of his presence and he was given a curt nod in response.. only for Jake to flip his head back to give the Brit a once over.  
"You're _still_ bleeding?"  
"Yep. That's what happens when I risk my ass for you."  
Jake rolled his eyes and beckoned the man over. He couldn't do much without a medkit, but he could at least try to stop the bleeding. Luckily it worked, even if it took a while. With that out of the way, the pair were headed towards the gate.

Unfortunately, by the time they got there, the Hag had circled back to check the area. At seeing all three remaining survivors there with Dwight at the lever, it was like stepping into a gold mine.  
"Oh fuck- Jake run! Dwight, stay there!" David shouted. He stared down the quickly approaching killer, his heartbeat skyrocketing with every step she took.  
"Dave- David, what are you doing?" Dwight shouted, his voice scared and uneven. He held down tight on the lever, opening the gates slowly but surely, even though every muscle in his body was screaming for him to run. Before anyone could react, the Hag had closed the gap between them and raised her claw up to strike Dwight and stop him from opening the gates- only for a certain scrapper to leap in front of him, receiving a sharp blow across his rugged face. A loud cry of pain sprung forth from his lips, but he gestured for the smaller man to continue.

Seemingly the Hag had forgotten all about Dwight, and was focusing on the cocky survivor before her who insisted on taking protection hits on kills she could've easily scored. Raising her hand again she lunged forward to slice at him again, but her deformed fingers only cut through air instead of flesh.  
"Alright, you ugly shit, this is it!"  
He charged forward, right into the significantly shorter killer, startling both her and his comrades. The Hag stumbled, miraculously staying on her feet, before swiping again. A wicked smirk cut it's way across his face as it only took a moment to realize what he had at his disposal. Making a snort almost resembling a bull the scrapper lunged to the side, going in circles around the killer and slamming his shoulder into her to disorientate her. 

By the time Jake and Dwight got the gates open and were sprinting for freedom, David was hot on their heels laughing all the way.

When the men found their way back into the void of fog, Nea was sitting on a log waiting. She saw them and smiled.  
"Hey guys. How'd it go?"

"You should've seen what Dave did." Jake chuffed, slowing to a light jog before stopping completely beside the woman. He was smiling, too- definitely an odd occurrence. "We should start body slamming killers like that, it's genius." Who would've thought the day Jake Park would compliment David King would be today.

"Wait- bodyslamming?" Nea asked, laughing. "No way."

"Yes way." David piped up, crossing his arms. He was breathing heavily and still a little beat up after the scratching to the face and shoulder but a chance to toot his own horn was too good to pass up. "I'm just awesome. That's all it is."  
Beside him, Dwight chuckled. "Yeah, sure Dave. Let's all get back to camp and let the others know."

"Good idea, I'm starving!" Nea groaned.

David had never been in the Red Forest outside of a Trial. According to the others, this area only showed up when he did, along with the Huntress; and part of him couldn't help but wonder if he was connected to the place somehow.   
When he wandered his way into the area looking for food, he was convinced he hit the jackpot. The thick undergrowth was rife with ripe ruddy berries, a cool river ran through the edge of the trees cleaner than theirs ever had been, and the distant bird song and animal footprints surrounding the area confirmed his suspicion. This was exactly where they needed to be. 

Crouching next to one of the bushes, he started gathering up the fat sweet berries into an empty mason jar. Technically the jar was supposed to be for water, but this food was more important. After filling it up to the brim, David started to pick up some of the juicy fruit and pop them into his mouth.  
No harm in eating a little, surely. He was burning calories out here searching around, so surely it was good for him to sate his rumbling belly. Not like the others would notice.

However, the snapping of a twig drew him out of his stupor. Wiping his mouth the survivor turned his head, only to see an odd sight.  
A massive buck, elk or deer he didn't know the difference really, standing about 100 feet away. It's huge antlers were as jagged as the branches of the trees, it's eyes black and soulless. What looked like legs similar to the Entity's jutted out of random places along it's dark black coat, making it appear eldritch in nature. Like some sort of spider abomination.  
David swallowed harshly. His throat felt dry.  
Carefully, he rose to his feet as slowly as he could.  
"Oi, I'm gonna go now, okay?" He mumbled. "Just.. be a good deer. Stay there…"  
Brief recollections of newspaper articles singing songs of men impaled on buck antlers during mating season made his heart begin to race. No way he was dying like that. A gentle, scaredy herbivore fucking killing a grown man, how absurd it sounded.

Before he could even fully stand up, the buck began to charge. His heart leapt into his throat as he turned to run in the other direction. _No way, no fucking way, no bloody way-_

"HOHH!"

David, sprinting now, looked over his shoulder as the animal cried out in agony. Though, that grunt didn't come from the elk.  
Instead, an all too familiar masked woman stood over it's twitching corpse. The Huntress approached the elk, reaching down to retrieve her hatchet from it's skull and turning her head to race the fleeing survivor.  
So that heartbeat in his ear wasn't from fear of the animal.   
How had he not heard her song?

_Lalalala la la la… Lalalala la la la…_

There it was.

David looked back ahead of him to avoid smacking into trees. That odd building, mother's dwelling as it came to be known, loomed from the dark. Maybe it was because of the rain that he hardly heard her. Though, that never stopped the carrying of her voice before.

Trying to swallow his pride, he zigzagged around the dwelling right as a hatchet zoomed past his head and made contact with the wooden stairs. Thank God for small favors.   
David ran harder than he thought he ever had, tapping into everything within him to keep going. This bitch needed to get off his scent or he was going to die here.   
And then, there, just ahead, was a gap in the trees. David exhaled sharply with relief and continued for it, but trying his best to run in an odd pattern. With any luck the Huntress would miss again.

Another glance over his shoulder. She was coming close to him, but her hatchet wasn't reared up. That was good. She was going to try close combat this time.   
David cut through the trees, sharp branches and leaves cutting at his face until he emerged into the Fog again. But he didn't stop running, not for anything. Ignoring the screaming of his body, he continued.

Distantly, behind him at the edge of the forest, a voice wailed and snarled. It was a cross between a wolverine and a toddler who had a toy taken from her.  
Had the man looked back, he could've seen the Huntress snarling and stomping her bare feet, throwing her arms up and down in a temper fit.

Bountiful resources clearly don't mean an area is safe to be in, the man reasoned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, Abhorable and I will be making another book in the same series of this full of extras that don't quite fit the format of this book. It'll have extra interaction and development of character relationships, and some other stuff not related to the main plot. Watch for it if you really like how this book is going so far!


	7. Chapter 7 - Dwight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update! Unfortunately, we got a bit behind schedule. We're thoroughly back now, so expect updates on Saturdays from 9 A.M. to 12 A.M. EST.

David smiled at Dwight, his hands resting idly on top of Dwight's knees. Soon enough, he looked away from David's ever encompassing stare. Staring into the dirt, licking his bottom lip as to try and avoid David's glance by keeping his own distracted. If he couldn't see David, David probably couldn't see him.   
Unfortunately, this isn't always true. Dwight's eyes betrayed him, looking right at David. David simply laughed as he took Dwight's chin into his hand, gingerly tipping it up to meet his own and-

"Meg, can you sauce me a big ol' chug jug," Nea yelled from across the camp.  
"Yeah no problem," The redhead responded, beginning to rifle through their supplies.  
Claudette interjected, "You shouldn't be using all the water. We barely have enough as is."

Dwight simply observed the little argument, still trying to savor the last moments of his almost-kiss with David. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to look him right this second as he was out in a trial with Laurie, Jake, and Ace. He flushed a bit while perceiving the incident.   
As long as he didn't know, for now, it would be fine. Dwight couldn't risk the friendship he had already built with David. 

Meg, Nea, and Claudette mildly fought for a moment before the three finally got Nea a large canteen and instructions to find some water out in the Fog. She happily headed out, Meg in tow. 

It didn't take long after that for David, Jake, and Laurie to arrive.

"We all died," David laughed. "Leatherface is a mean bastard."   
"Yeah," Dwight encouraged with the question.   
"Yeah," Laurie agreed, plopping down on a log and fiddling with her fingers. He had no idea why she was so fidgety all of a sudden.

Jake resided himself to his bedroll with a can of green beans. They continued to chat with Laurie stating that she was going to go out exploring once Nea and Meg got back. It was a minor rule of Dwight's, don't go exploring without a partner and avoid going out while there was another exploration group. The terms worked out in their favor since David had nearly gotten cut up by the Huntress the other day, and a few months ago when he and Jake had gone out the same time as Claud and Meg. He rarely wanted to remember the horror of that day. The whole shebang was a mess, something lurking out in the shadows of Coldwind. The four were scared back into each other's arms and back to camp with nothing to show for it. 

A snap of twigs. Dwight immediately perked up, hoping to see Ace. He hadn't been back from the trial yet, and he was starting to worry.   
Feng entered the camp. In the "morning" she, Dwight, and Meg went out to run. In the past few "weeks" the raven-haired girl had disappeared suddenly when the three had gone out running. The past few times, she had brushed it off as if she had simply been called to trial.  
But Dwight knew better. He'd typically ask if there was a trial when he came back and if Feng had been a part of one. She often was not. This made her very suspicious in his eyes, earning a bit of special attention from him as he tried to keep a close eye on the younger. 

She trotted in proudly, hands full of what appeared to be some sort of food along with a large canteen slung around her neck. Feng headed to the stocks, where she began to deposit her haul of goodies. 

"Where've you been?" Dwight was boring holes into her back. He saw how stiffly she sat up, a reaction to it.   
"With Herman," She stated matter-of-factly.   
He narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms against his chest. "Why do you keep going to see him?"   
"He's nice, genuinely bro." She replied earnestly, no lies on the surface of her words. The objective truth, however, was that the Doctor was a no-good electro-maniac. Feng sat silent for a moment, continuing to sort through the piles of cans and organizing her rations to accordance. "Y'know, I think you should visit him sometime."  
" _What_?"   
"Hell, a lot of you should. He's really helped me out lately, and he really is a good person. Just takes some getting used to, is all."  
"No! Absolutely not!" Dwight shouted.  
"You're crazy, Feng." David took a step closer to the smaller girl, hands balled into tight fists.  
"No, I'm not," She immediately deflected. "You've seen the resources, the knowledge they have! We could be living like kings, but none of you are ready to face the facts that we _should_ be working with the killers! I don't care how dangerous it is, there's far too much benefit!"  
"There's no benefit unless you want to die!" Dwight shot back.  
"The killers are smart, they're strong, they could help us take down those fog-beasts! We could help them, and they could help us! There are things to worry about, but Herman is nice. Herman knows the back parts of The Fog like the back of his hand, and better yet, he has _electricity_. That might be our ticket out of this hell hole, finding a way back _home_!" 

Dwight began to encroach on Feng's space. David followed suit. 

"That's enough," Claudette spoke up from the back, her voice trying to be as loud as possible for her tiny lungs. "We have way too many far more important things, such as our water issue, to address. We don't have time to squabble over what we should and shouldn't do about the killers. They are separate from us. Feng might be right, but there's too much risk right now with our shortage."

Claudette never stood up for anything. She was a shadow amongst brightly colored neon signs. More importantly, she was a coward. Someone who clambered into corners while everyone else fought her battles for her. But, she wouldn't say anything unless she was right. 

David took a few steps back, his hands slowly unfurling. Dwight watched him intently. David knew he was right, and Dwight knew David would go to the ends of the Earth(or, Fog) just to defend him. Dwight knew he was right to do so. 

"Alright everyone, now that we're done bullying each other, let's get back to work, shall we?" Claudette proposed. 

Dwight passive-aggressively huffed, unready to give up his position as the superior in this exact moment. He wasn't so sure he wanted to immediately resign. 

But before he could protest, Ace shuffled from out of the woods, a deep gash in his shoulder and clear marring of his left pant-leg. He was grunting, clearly from the pain. He stumbled into the clearing, everyone watching for a brief moment as he wobbled without any support. It wasn't long until Laurie and Feng began to set him down by the fire, closer to their herbs and medical supplies.   
Feng passed him the canteen, full of who-knows-what, and allowed Ace to sip from it. He clearly wasn't drinking blood or something, 'cause he wasn't coughing up the substance. Dwight felt a pang of guilt that he could accuse Feng of doing something so nasty but immediately shook it off. 

Dwight particularly hated how The Entity chose to heal them. Their muscles would fuse back together, winding sinews extending and connecting with one another. Oh, and when someone stepped in a bear trap wrong? Breaking bone? When they got out of the trial, the bone would wildly snap on its own, contorting every which way before settling into its regular placement before healing. The sound was atrocious. 

Ace had both symptoms, but instead of crying out in agony, Claudette had given him some cloth to bite down on. He seemed far more relaxed than everyone else when the same had befallen them. What exactly had Feng given him? Was she actually trying to kill him? Sedate him, keep him docile before she struck?

Feeling overcome with nervousness and sudden anxiety swallowing his anger from earlier, he approached the group. Dwight pushed his glasses a little further up his nose, watching Claudette fix up their new friend.  
"What happened?"  
Ace rose a hand to their leader and smiled through the cloth bitten in his teeth. He removed it to speak through a breathy huff of pain.  
"Hey kid. Yeah, it was that Trapper. He got me good- but that whiskey Feng has ain't half bad. Musta been a good year."  
As the older man reached out to the gamer to ask for another swig of spirits, a bitter realization settled over Dwight.  
Whiskey? It was just booze? God, how could he be so stupid? And how could he think so little of someone he was supposed to be doing everything to protect, along with the rest of the flock. He needed to lay off of her for a while, clear his head; apologize to the poor thing at the least.  
He restrained himself from gulping. He was wrong this time. Dwight wasn't so sure about next time, as anything could really happen. But he did know one thing. He wasn't going to budge on his status with the killers. 

Trying to get out of his own head, Dwight began to try and listen to everyone's conversations. He didn't plan on participating much, just make sure he wasn't making himself feel too bad over something he could inevitably apologize for anyway.

"Anyway, that trial was crazy," David piped back up.  
"You can say that again," Ace chuckled, pressing a handful of gauze to his open shoulder wound. Claudette was taping it down to his open wound. "I barely made it out the hatch."  
"Where was it?" Feng urged, ready to hear the rest of the story. She hadn't gotten to be in a trial for the past couple of days. There was no doubt she was anxious about learning for the next hellish experience.   
"Well, the bastard was guarding it." Ace held his right arm up, hand extended much like a claw. "'Twas right in the middle of the damn Red Forest, was a journey and a half trying to get him off of it. I did everything, snapping traps map-wide, throwing down pallets, jumping in and out of windows. The works."  
"It's weird that The Entity didn't heal you right after the trial, though," Claudette spoke up.

"So what in the hell did we miss," Nea asked, slinging a full canteen over her shoulder. The saboteur raised his head as Nea and Meg had entered from his side of camp.  
"Not much, just got back from Trapper," Jake smiled up at the rowdy Swede.   
Meg nodded before commenting. "We managed to race around Red Forest long enough to catch some rainwater. Felt like forever."  
"Yea, it totally blew." Nea added on.   
"Good job," Laurie congratulated.   
"We just need to distill it and then we can go get more." The botanist nodded.   
"I guess I'll be going out next. Who's coming with?" Laurie stood, stretching with her arms extended and hands clasped together.   
"I 'pose I'll go," David shrugged. "But let's eat something before we head out, alright?"  
"You're always hungry. Didn't you just eat before the trial?" Feng rolled her eyes before closing them and laughing.   
"Yeah, c'mon David," Dwight parroted. The three shared a quick laugh. Dwight could only hope that the tension between him and Feng was not just being thinly veiled at this moment. 

Regardless, he loved to see David in on the joke, if only for his smile. David's smile reminded Dwight of an old family portrait. You can't look at one without thinking of good memories. He was a black and white photo of a distant relative on a unicycle. By seeing them, you recognize them as human. As someone who you wholeheartedly recognize as just a person having a grand old time, you really feel like you _know_ them. Dwight loved that about David.  
He wasn't supposed to be thinking about one of his companions in purgatory. David had an air about him that made him irresistible. He was almost perfect to Dwight, flashing smiles while keeping his teeth hidden. Dwight liked that in people, and he couldn't seem to hate it in any sense of the word. 

Feng stood, heading over to her bedroll. Ace returned to his more usual side of the campfire, the opposite of their medical supplies. Ace, Jake, Nea, Meg, and Bill struck up a conversation. They always were the tight-knit clique. It was just Dwight, Laurie, Claudette, and David left at that side of the campfire now. 

"I guess I'll come too." Dwight blurted out, trying to shake off the guilt building in his stomach.   
"If it's a party," Claudette sigh-laughed, "Four's a whole crowd, right?"  
"Then it's settled." Laurie cracked her knuckles. "We all head into the Fog. We bring two empty canteens per two people."  
"I'll go with David." Pulling her locks out of her face, Claudette proposed the notion.   
"Right on. Only split up partially." David nodded. "Laurie, you and Dwight better not kill each other with leaderly-energy."   
"Will try." Laurie saluted. Dwight smiled.

The four went over their plans a bit more, making sure they each knew what was going on. They would all head to one realm together and would split up into groups of two to cover more ground. Dwight and Claudette were to carry the canteens. Nobody was supposed to leave anyone else alone, and that was final. It all seemed pretty standard, but it's good to review every now and again.   
David led the other three into the Fog. Dwight followed close after while Laurie and Claudette tailed them. They were the perfect little pack transcending the Fog with quiet grace. Claudette and Laurie weren't particularly chatty, nor was David. 

Dwight gazed over at the others, studying them briefly. His eyes centered nervously on Claudette. After the verbal altercation with Feng, he had a sharp feeling Claud wasn't too happy with him. Of course, logically, he knew this was his anxiety talking. But he still hated the idea of her spreading that dissent into the rest of the group, making him equal parts worried and upset.   
The bespectacled man turned his gaze back to the dirt, running the numbers in his head. He needed to speak with her. Feng and Laurie, too. If they all worked this out it could be fixed, possibly.   
He frowned. He didn’t like that it was uncertain. What if, like many other times before, his anxiety was right? What if everything went wrong? What if they all hated him? What if they outcasted him? What if they forced him to live in the fog, without anyone else to help him? What if-

“Alright, now we’ve gotta split up.” Laurie announced. They were on the edge of a green mist, the sight of Autohaven peaking through the Fog.   
David and Claudette immediately branched off to the left, more towards the scrapyard of the area. Laurie began to lead Dwight more towards the gas station, in the direct center. The two walked on, keeping their heads low, and their voices quiet if they needed to speak. It wasn’t like Dwight was trying too much, seeing as he was managing his little internal crisis.   
He swallowed his guilt, for now, anyway. Dwight had to find water. It was the only way that any of them would feasibly survive in this hellscape. He didn't have time to dwell on himself when far more important matters were at stake.

Laurie headed into the gas station, careful not to trip the wire on the edge of the doorway connected to the bell. There wasn't anything for them here if they were just going to get caught and chased out. Dwight followed behind her at almost a snail's pace, trying not to make a sound. If the killer didn't immediately pounce on them, he knew Laurie would strangle him to death herself.  
He peered around at the lines of shelves, wondering if Autohaven had anything of use besides junk food and gasoline. Surely that tree-like killer got water from _somewhere_.   
Empty containers of food littered the shelves, all in their proper places. A few full bags of chips remained, along with some other random junk. Chewing gum was stacked high at the counter. Feng would probably like that. She mentioned how chewing gum helped one stay calm in stressful situations.

He took another look around before gesturing to Laurie that he was headed into the mechanic's garage.  
Dwight slowly crept around the shelves, the musty wood mixed with the savory sweetness of the junk making his stomach churn.  
He entered the garage with furrowed brows, his dark eyes constantly searching for that shimmer in the air that foretold the hidden appearance of the Wraith. Where could he be?  
He heard some shuffling from the side of the open door and turned. Was he here? Was he going to steal his bones or something ridiculous?  
Turning the corner, there he saw her. Claudette sat hunched, a large dark figure looming over her. She was digging her fingers into some, well, Dwight wasn't exactly sure what it was. It was large, oozing a bright orange puss from several orifices. Then again, he was more concerned with The Wraith above her making small jittery murmurs and extreme hand motions. He squinted his eyes. Just what on Earth did she think she was _doing_?  
The bell bearing beast set his left hand on Claudette's shoulder, his other pointed towards another seeping, fleshy mass. _It_ convulsed wickedly, hair-like tendrils twitching and making sounds every few moments. The more the thing writhed, the more Dwight hated its very existence. These were new to the Fog, alright. They were unique and like other weird things in the Fog, inherently evil.   
The Wraith stumbled over to the mass, the botanist following with haste. The two examined the wriggling lump, Claudette whispering to the creature. He made more gestures with his hands in some sort of response. Did Claudette know sign language? It wouldn't really surprise him.   
Soon, the girl took out her pair of garden shears. She brought them delicately to the mass, snipping off a small chunk of skin from the left side. It bled that orange goop all over her gloved fingers. Slipping it into a small leather bag, she smiled up at The Wraith. He'd talk with Claudette about these things later, he thought as he crept back into the Fog.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is written by two people. If the writing style, verbiage, etc change, it is of the fault of a collaborative work. Both of us will do our best to keep things consistent, though, so don't worry about too many issues.


End file.
